


Human Shed Skin: Inhuman

by Mar Qaroll (Mareonet)



Series: The Molt Series: Human Shed Skin [1]
Category: Molt Series - Mar Qaroll, Original Work
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, April Camp NaNoWriMo 2018, Because Consentacles, Bestiality-ish, Childhood Trauma, Complete, Consentacles, Crying, Demon Hunters, Demons, Did I Mention Consentacles?, Disturbing Themes, Drama, Erotic, Established Relationship, Excerpt(s), Extremely Plot-Driven, Falling In Love Again, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Graphic Sex, Human/Monster Romance, Hunters, Implications of Possible Male Pregnancy, Interspecies, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Language, Lovers to enemies to lovers, M/M, Magic-Users, Male Homosexuality, Male Protagonist, Meaning Far More Men Than Women, Men Crying, Mentions of Cosmic Entities, Minor Action, Monster Hunters, Monsters, More Plot Than Action, Mpreg-ish, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2017, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Overcoming Trauma, Possible Character Death, Possible Disturbing Themes, Possible Grammatical Errors, Possibly PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Questionable Time Period, References to Depression, Revisions Pending, Romance, Sausage-Party, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Self-Discovery, Sepiapunk, Several -Punk Derivatives and Mashups, Sex Is Pivotal To Plot, Sexual Content, Slenderman-Inspired Creature, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Sort Of/Kind Of, Steampunk, Subseries, Suggestions of Internalized Homophobia, Tags Are Canon, Tags Contain Spoilers, Technology, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Teratophilia, That One Chapter of Horror, This Is Halloween, Transformation, Trauma, Typos, Unrealistic Sex, Will Have Constant Revisions, Women Have Minor Roles, Worldbuilding, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2019-09-16 02:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 80,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16945512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareonet/pseuds/Mar%20Qaroll
Summary: During an emergency response to an attack by Infernals, inhuman hunter Jean-Luc is nearly killed by a B-Class Infernal, only to be saved by a tentacle emerging from his best friend and lover, Celezar. While dealing with this revelation of Celezar's inhumanity, he learns the attack was the first in a chain of incidents around the continent instigated by creatures far more powerful than anything his family has ever dealt with. With Celezar stubbornly remaining in his life, he is torn between his love for him and the dogma of his family, all while dealing with the new threat looming over the heads of humankind across the continent.Male/inhuman male pairing.I finished this novel for NaNoWriMo 2k17.Mayor maynotbe completely uploaded due to reasons beyond my control. Please let me know your thoughts! All feedback welcomed.ON A TEMPORARY HIATUS WHILE I TRY TO GET MY FILES BACK...





	1. Monster Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Welcome to Book One of The Molt Series subseries, Human Shed Skin! _Inhuman_ is a story I created—and finished!—during 2017's National Novel Writing Month. I am very happy to say this story has gone through over ten rewrites, and I think I finally have a version I'm fine with letting others see. Of course, this is **not** the final, "perfected" version...so expect things to be...strange, sometimes? I dunno; you tell me. There will be more rewrites/updates without notice. 
> 
> This novel be plotty. I love me some plot in my stories. All the juicy bits come in spurts (har har) but much later in the story. 
> 
>  **This story is (was) complete**. However, **I'm on a hiatus as of August 2019 due to losing chapters**...
> 
> Oh, and throughout the story you will see small question marks (?). Ignore those...They're for me.
> 
> And without further ado... _Human Shed Skin: Inhuman_.

Roars of flames, screams and inhuman screeches rang in Jean's ears above the drone of the helicopter. The fires reflected in his eyes behind the window, visible for miles. Without prompt, he opened the helicopter's side door, causing his locks to whisk about, and stared while inhaling the smell of burning life below. To anyone else, the sight and sounds were harrowing, the things from nightmares. To him, they only served as reminders for why he existed as an inhuman hunter.

Aided by the light of the fires, the origin of the incessant noise was visible from the helicopter: Six-legged, vaguely anthropoid creatures with reddish flesh ran after human survivors. They were roughly the size of a human but were far deadlier than any natural earthly predator.

They were Infernals, creatures of the Dark. Demons, by the looks of them.

A voice crackled in his ear, " _Boss, want me to get closer?_ "

"Move us to land, Gulliver," he ordered. As the helicopter lowered to unsoiled ground, he held onto the threshold of the helicopter's door.

He glanced back at his men, seven in all. They nodded or saluted at him, ready to fight. He returned the acknowledgment, then looked forward.

Moments before the helicopter touched down, he jumped out and dashed forward. Swiping his pistol-revolver Ringe from its holster at his hip, he shot the nearest demon giving chase to a man nearly twice his age.

Just as it jumped, the blessed bullet landed, causing it to burst. Its tainted remains would have splattered over the man had Jean not manifested a blue shield over him to prevent it. Before he finished lifting his finger off Ringe's trigger, another demon swiftly lunged at him.

As he looked at it, readying to raise another shield, two slender swords sliced it into three parts. He glanced to his left at his lover, Celezar. The redheaded man lowered his bloodied swords and spared a wink at him. Jean's lips twitched but he didn't say anything in response to the gesture.

Both he and Celezar dodged out the way as a green projectile shot at them from another demon. Instead of shooting it at its close range, Jean drew his sword Hilde into his left hand, swiftly slicing the creature in half. Its shrieks were piercing, the lower body walking on four wobbly legs before keeling over. Celezar used one of his swords to stab its head, rendering it silent.

Jean raised Ringe. "Friedrich," he called to his uncle, "take two men to the east!"

" _Sent_."

He watched as two men led by one with blond hair broke off from his group, eliminating demons as they ran. Gunshots, the sounds of sizzling and animalistic screeches sounded out as the helicopter took to the air.

He took a moment to look after it, watching it turn towards the island's southeastern region. "Gulliver, get Ulrich on the line," he said to the pilot.

The glint of orange-red light shone off Gulliver's headset. " _Sent, Boss_."

Jean looked around. Celezar was no longer near him, and he caught sight of the man passing the roaring flames. He frowned. The number of demons had already lessened severely in the immediate area, leaving human victims behind. The demons likely heard their brethren's dying cries and scampered.

That wasn't good for whatever survivors there were. Some distance away stood the man he helped save who looked upon him with shaken awe.

Jean approached, reaching into an inner breast pocket of his coat. He handed the man an oval-shaped amber amulet. "Take this," he said, tossing it to him. It was caught, but confusion was added to the shaken demeanor. He nodded towards the creatures in the distance. "It will protect you from the demons. Gather whatever other survivors you can and take them to the port."

The man was too disturbed to respond, only nodding like a bobblehead doll, and then ran towards the south. He called towards some people who were already running in the same direction.

Jean watched after him for a moment before speeding into the opposite direction, the northeast. He, Celezar and two of his other men were occupying the tip of the island's western region. Just as he began to call for his second uncle, a voice spoke through his earpiece.

" _Jean, you there?_ "

Hearing his younger brother over the radio gave him some relief, as it always did. "Yeah," he responded as he came to a stop. "What's the situation on your end?"

There was a huff. " _Not good. Half the whole island is in flames. Firefighting helicopters are on standby, but they're getting rightfully antsy. Not much I'll be able to do before they might go ahead to put the fires out._ "

Considering this, Jean looked at the inferno nearby. Even from such a distance, he could feel licks of the tremendous heat and see the remaining animals scampering for dear life. He could only figure the green projectiles weren't all the demons could spew. "That's fine. If they can wait for another fifteen minutes or so, we'll have this taken care of soon. Trevor?"

Another voice spoke into his ear. " _The Dragonflies are out and about. We've some badly injured survivors here who informed us where the nest might be, so I'm on that._ "

"Good." Jean beckoned his men closer but realized Celezar was missing. He glanced around while turning on the flashlight on his coat. "Where should we head out to?"

" _The demons have scattered from your location and are going inland, to the southeast._ " Briefly, there was silence. " _Some of the Infernals seem to be heading towards the nest. Celezar is trailing them and leaving markers_."

Jean could have rolled his eyes. Celezar did things like that, going ahead, away from the action, only to end up doing something remarkably useful. "Sent." He nodded at his two remaining men and, without prompt, they ran towards the southeast.

They took notice of the white markings on the ground almost immediately. They were simple lines, some straight, some in slight directional changes. The lines seemed to bring the group past the outskirts of the nearest town. In the distance, they spotted several of the demons standing in their way, needle-thin teeth gnashing and slanted red orbs flashing in the light. This was nothing intimidating, but Jean briefly wondered how Celezar managed to avoid them.

Several red throats bulged before orange-red and green projectiles, one inflamed and the other slimy, were spewed at them. With a mere thought, Jean raised a large violet shield that rebound the projectiles back to the demons. The turnaround seemed to surprise them, their sounds changing from angry growls into confused and enraged screeches as they were thrown back by the force of their own attacks. Jean and his men didn't hesitate to take advantage of the situation, swooping in and slicing the demons into shrieking pieces. Not breaking their strides, they continued on.

"They're nestlings," Nicholae, his uncle, observed as his one eye glanced back at the fallen creatures.

Jean nodded as he led the way. "Newborn, too. And hungry." He eyed some half-eaten bodies of humans and animals with a scowl.

"The progenitor must be near."

As they jumped over an overturned carriage and fallen horse, Jean's thoughts went to Celezar. Over the radio, he called, "Celezar, where are you?"

" _Did you find my trail?_ " came the almost smiling response.

Jean softly huffed. "Yes. Where are you?"

They waited a moment for a reply, during which time they switched to their guns to save time and take the demons out at a distance.

A sound of uncertainty was made in their ears. " _A field of some sort, I suppose_. _I think this is where it all started; there's blood everywhere. The demons I'm following are...taking me deeper into the field_."

This made Jean uneasy. He manifested round blue platforms for him and his men to jump onto to scale over a fence. "Don't go any further. Wait until we catch up to you."

There wasn't a response, prompting him to exhale with irritation. Not a moment after this, a sudden tremor shook the ground, as if from an earthquake further ahead. Instinctively, he knew it was anything but.

" _Uh, Boss...I think the parent just woke up._ "

Bristling, he manifested the platforms again to carry them swiftly over the land. If the tremor meant anything, it signified a large Infernal making movement. "Don't engage! Celezar? Do _not_ engage!"

Celezar didn't respond, worrying him considerably.

Almost a second later, Trevor shouted, " _Boss, Celezar is combating the Infernal! She's large—definitely B-Class!_ "

All three men made a sound of alarm. They continued in the air, coming closer to where the dust was picking up.

"Ulrich," Jean called urgently.

" _Here._ "

"Get the firefighters on the fires. It'll make taking care of these damned nestlings easier later."

" _On it._ "

It wasn't long before the large open road lined with trees on opposite sides became visible, as did the giant form of the mother demon. Its dark red, slickened hide shone from the light of their flashlights. Large horns curled on its head, fully developed claws on all six of its hands pulled its body out of the ground, and a long spiked tail swayed behind it. It was nearly a hundred feet long, dwarfing its children, and its mass was tremendous, rippling with muscle.

"Friedrich, come in." Jean moved his men high into the air, watching the creature and surveying the area for any sign of Celezar.

" _We're on our way_ ," his uncle responded. " _We can see it_."

Dirt and heavy clouds of dust arose, ruining the field. The demon's nostrils flared, and its humanoid head turned into their direction, giving a roar that warbled through the air.

Celezar was nowhere in sight.

Out the corner of Jean's eye, he spotted Friedrich and his two other men nearing from the north. They were also atop blue platforms. Looking at them all, Jean considered. Taking on B-Class Infernals came with a higher possibility of death. He briefly closed his eyes, teeth clenching as he considered what may have happened to Celezar.

But they all knew the risks.

Sudden looks of alarm formed on his men's faces. Without hesitation, without even looking, he held up his hand, erecting a massive violet-colored shield that protected them from a large, flaming projectile. Friedrich moved to stand beside him and together they held off the attack, allowing the other men to spread out.

After a moment of struggling, Jean and Friedrich deflected the attack, hitting the demon directly. It didn't cause much damage by the looks of it, but the creature did loudly screech at them through the smoke and flames that began to diffuse. Lowering his hand, Jean descended to the ground and willed the platform to disperse below him. Going into a run, he spotted the rest of his men using holy water bombs to successfully keep the demon distracted.

" _This thing might be weak against ice, Jean_ ," said Friedrich.

Jean looked over to see his uncle summoning an arch of ice to his palms. Several slices were thrown at the demon's limbs, successfully causing it to collapse along with aid from the frozen water. Jean slid his hand over the blade of his sword, coating it with magic-imbued ice. The demon's enraged screech suddenly cut off from the sound of a resounding strike. While he readied his magic, letting it swell within him, Jean spotted one of his men, wielding a massive battle axe, land back on his platform after executing his attack.

This made the demon fall over, momentarily dazed from the blow to its head. Quickly, Jean gathered magic to his feet before jumping high into the air. Swinging down his blade, a hail of thick ice pieced the creature's body.

"Jean, watch out!"

He suddenly startled at the sound of Celezar's voice but caught sight of the tail a moment too late. Despite this, he managed to erect a shield around his body. The demon's tail was far more prehensile than he thought, and it smacked him away.

The shield shattered but took the hit. His expression twisted as he collided with the ground, taking his breath away. The momentum drove him through the field, skidding along like a stone on water. He barely felt the bumps and scrapes along the way, too focused on trying to grasp for purchase on something, anything, but was moving fast. It was difficult to clearly make out where he was going.

He suddenly and far too distinctly spotted Celezar, his hand outstretched for him as he dove forward. Jean's vision began to blur, but he managed to make out something reaching towards him from the man's hand. He reached for it, just as the world and his body fell back, momentarily drifting to haze.

Then came the tug, followed by numbness in his arm as he was caught, causing him to grimace from the pain. What met his vision next was the expanse of air between his dangling feet and jagged rocks below. Ocean water crashed harshly against the rocks, splashing water high against the cliffside. Exhaling shakily, he closed his eyes with relief. Then the sensation of what kept him aloft registered to his senses.

He looked up, only to inhale sharply in shock.

A black tentacle-like appendage coiled around his wrist, its slick surface uncanny and unnatural. Horrified and confused, he looked past the tendril to see what it was coming from.

No— _who_ it was coming from.

Celezar's eyes were so wide, so scared, staring at him as he reached from the cliff edge. The black _thing_ came from out of Celezar's palm and reached a good two feet from his hand.

Their gaze met, blues to olive-greens. Celezar was grimacing, bleeding from a nasty gash on his forehead that trickled a stream of red down his face. He was almost wheezing, looking incredibly pale from blood loss.

"I got you, Jean," he breathed.

The tentacle retracted into his palm until he was holding Jean's gloved hand. Without any sign of effort, he raised Jean up and back on the grass. Slightly prone, Jean took a moment to recover, breathing hard from the close call. He couldn't focus on the fact that he was almost killed by the demon or that there was even a demon to kill. The world seemed to fade around him with only Celezar in focus and the distant crashing of the waves echoing faintly in his ears.

Lifting onto his arms, he shivered at the sensation of a hand on his back and moved away to face the other man.

Or what looked like a man.

Celezar didn't seem to notice, and he repositioned onto his knees. "Are you alright?" he asked, breathing heavily.

No.

No, Jean was not alright. He wasn't sure if it was from the attack, but his vision was hazing over, his mind felt shot. Adrenaline coursed through him, his heartbeat throbbed in his ears.

This couldn't be happening.

A call over the radio brought him back to the present. The flush of dread and horror overcame him at the realization this was reality. He felt physically sick but swallowed it down. Shutting his eyes, he shuddered with a soft groan.

"Jean—"

" _Shut up_." The venom in his own voice shook him. He never spoke to Celezar like that before, not in all the years he knew him. Slowly, he went to his feet, swaying unsteadily. This prompted a hand to reach for him, but he swatted it away. "Don't touch me," he warned, reaching for his gun, only to instead feel air at his side. He stiffened, the heat of fear and sadness running through him at the realization it must have fallen.

His eyes widened when Celezar tentatively handed the heirloom to him from behind his back. Looking up into the green eyes that were once so assuring, so beloved, he felt his jaw lock from emotion that threatened to swallow him.

He snatched Ringe away, immediately pointing it forward. But Celezar only stood there, his head lowered, though his eyes remained fixated on the gun. Jean could see the sorrow mixed in with several other emotions that flitted across his face.

"You can't kill me, Jean," Celezar said softly. "I'm—"

"You're not _human_ ," Jean snapped. Despite his knee-jerk words, the sadness in the other's voice inadvertently shook him. He stumbled a bit but kept the gun pointed forward. "Show me your true form."

"Jean—"

"Show me your true form!" He dared to take a step forward.

He had to see it. He could not— _did_ not want to fight Celezar like this, in the form of the man he loved. He had to fight him, now. Celezar was a monster.

He was one of _them_.

Instead of changing, Celezar's expression only turned to one of concern as the gun shook in Jean's hand from his trembling.

Jean was faltering.

He couldn't remember the last time he hesitated against an inhuman. It was probably when he was still a fledgling hunter. In the life of an inhuman hunter, doubt and hesitance was the difference between living and dying.

His teeth audibly ground together to the point that it hurt. He began to take several steps back. "All this time—"

" _Jean! Answer me!_ "

Blinking, he was brought out of his stupor by the voice of his uncle.

He was a Lowell, the leader of the Lowell Hunters. He could not falter, could not fall to his desires.

No matter how much it hurt.

He pointed his gun forward with a steady hand. " _Om chia a zol de olapireta_ ," he murmured between his teeth. It was his family's motto, crafted in a language lost to the passage of time.

 _We are the Hands of Light_ , it meant.

Damn him if he didn't try to live by it.

Celezar's eyes widened. A look of pain overcame his features just before Jean fired.

Celezar was gone in a flash, reappearing further away. His hands were up in surrender. "Please, Jean, let me explain!"

Jean shook his head. Instead of speaking, he held Ringe with both hands, running towards him.

Celezar flashed away again, reappearing at Jean's far left side. He had teleportation. That, or he was moving too fast for Jean's eyes to catch.

In a moment, Celezar disappeared once more. Taking a swift look around, still pointing Ringe, Jean didn't see him. He was gone.

As if the bubble containing the moment burst, the sounds of fighting and enraged demon roars reached his ears. Exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding, he lowered Ringe, panting and distraught. Leaning forward, he shut his eyes as his mind spun before sinking to his knees.

" _Jean!_ "

His shaking hand reached up to adjust the crooked earpiece over his helix. "Y-yeah. I'm…I'm here."

There was a combined exhale of relief, followed by an echo of the demon's roars. " _Are you alright?_ " Nicholae asked.

Jean's mouth opened, flapping as he tried to find words. No. He was _not_ alright.

" _Jean?_ "

"No," he finally managed. A sudden boom that shook the ground snapped him from his stupor. "I'll be right there."

He slowly rose to his feet. Fighting through his body's pains, though they were more emotional than physical, he shook his arm a bit, then holstered Ringe. His breathing wasn't as hard anymore, and he briefly shut his eyes.

Now was not the time for this.

He ran forward from where he came, and the glint of light from his flashlight on his sword was easy enough to find on the leveled ground. Relieved smiles and expressions were turned on him when he arrived, and his eyes focused on the scene. The demon was still alive, its body sizzling morbidly on the verge of dying. It laid helplessly on frozen ground, its broken tail the only appendage left on its body.

The men weren't in the best shape, either. Jean's axe-wielding comrade was suffering from a slash across his chest. All the men looked winded, injured somehow, and a few sported bleeding cuts that were wrapped. Some distance away, their medic was tending to one of his men who was entirely unconscious and bleeding from a bad wound in his chest.

Jean scowled, then looked above. The Dragonfly drones dropped bombs onto the demon's body, which exploded on contact and released holy water. The demon was clearly somewhat resistant to the water, but not anymore in its condition. It began to cry out as its body slowly corroded.

Watching, Jean flicked his hand while sheathing his sword. A large orange barrier erected around them, and he turned to gaze at Friedrich, who was incanting something with two fingers raised from one hand. The several dissolving or crumbled body parts of the Infernal began to dissipate into nothingness, rising upward instead of contaminating more of the grass.

He glanced back at his other men. The medic was no longer worried, by the look of it, and checked on the others. Calming, as none of his men were going to die, Jean stared past the dissolving demon remains.

Celezar.

They had to take care of Celezar. No inhuman could live after what he had done.

Swallowing at the thought, Jean once again gazed back at his men.

No human either, for what _he_ had done.

He pushed the thought into the deep recesses of his mind and turned around. In the distance, the helitankers were at work putting out the remains of the fires that were no longer the burning infernos they once were. If it wasn't for _that_ , this mission would be an overall success, even with the remaining nestling demons scurrying about.

"A job well done, men." He looked at his comrades as their eyes focused on him. "But we're not in the clear, yet. There's one more inhuman escaping the area."

Nicholae was cleaning his sword, his eye on the blade. "Did Celezar go after it?"

Jean's expression couldn't get any darker. "Celezar _is_ the inhuman," he said between his teeth.

A deafening silence overcame them. Eyes wide, mouths agape, the men stared at him with horror and, eventually, confusion.

"How the _fuck_ is that possible?" asked the axe-wielder on the ground.

Nicholae slowly sheathed his sword. "He was able to get through the isle's barrier," he argued, referencing the protective barrier that surrounded their home. "No inhuman can do that."

"I'm just telling you what I saw," Jean answered. Before questions could form, he tersely explained, "Some sort of…tentacle thing emerged from his hand when he saved me from the cliffside back there."

The medic blinked. "He saved your life?"

The question sounded more like a statement. Not too long ago, the idea wouldn't be strange. But now, if Celezar was inhuman…?

Jean almost glared at him. "Don't you think I'm wondering why, too?" He shut his eyes, realizing he was snapping. But how could he possibly calm down over this revelation?

Exhaling deeply, he pinched his nose bridge. Recalling his family motto, he pursed his lips. The overwhelming majority of inhumans—particularly Infernals—were beings of Darkness. They had to be extinguished and exterminated, even if they were once considered dear friends...

He stared into the direction where Celezar was last seen. He glanced at his comatose comrade. "How is he?"

"He's just unconscious. He'll live," the medic assured.

To the other man, Jean asked, "Think you can make it?"

The burly hunter nodded, raising his axe over his shoulder. "Nothing I haven't felt before," he said with a shrug.

"We can at least recover ourselves," Nicholae said to Friedrich.

After the prompt, the older magic-user raised his hand, causing a green barrier to surround them. While it could only heal minor wounds, it was most useful at recovering stamina. Within moments, they were feeling as they did before encountering the mother demon: fit and ready to fight. They would need the stamina; from the sound of it, Celezar was no inhuman they had encountered before.

After a moment, the hunters, sans the medic and their unconscious companion, stood at the ready. Jean turned around and ran forward, leading the way deeper into the field.

Thick fog began to overtake the island, swallowing it menacingly. Blue was creeping into the sky as early morning steadily neared sunrise, though it went nearly unseen as they ran. Jean softly cursed their misfortune. The fog could make the fight difficult.

It wasn't long before they neared what appeared to be a partially destroyed farm. The barn was in shambles, the house splattered with blood and, likewise, blood soiled the ground. It was the barn, however, that caught their attention.

Standing in clear view atop the broken roof, Celezar looked down at them with glowing green eyes.

He raised his hands non-threateningly. "Please let me expla—"

A shot went off, lodging a bullet in the dead-center of his forehead from Jean's gun. Jean then watched with some horror as Celezar merely staggered, his eyes wide with shock and gasps emitting from his open mouth.

Jean's eyes narrowed. All of them knew what a being should do when shot by a bullet, let alone one from Ringe. Stagger yet remain standing was not one of them.

From out of the ground suddenly came several large black tentacles the width of an average-sized human. As they rose from the earth, they ensnared each of the men in their grasps, and glowing eyes stared up at them.

Spitting the bullet to the ground, Celezar began, " _If_ you gave me a _moment_ , I can explain why I—"

Again, he was interrupted as Jean managed to touch the smooth, black surface of the tentacle holding him up, and a shock of bluish-white magic ran through it. Celezar let out a shriek from the electricity before letting him go with an irritated hiss. Before he even touched the ground, Jean quickly unsheathed his sword to slice horizontally at the tentacle, sending a wave of blue magic that cut it and several more in half, freeing his men.

As Celezar merely stood there, Jean ran forward and swung at him. The silver of his blade met the black of inhumanly long claws as his attack was caught. Despite this, he bounded off Celezar's body with a kick that sent him back a few feet. It gave the men further away an opening to shoot Celezar in the head.

Irritated hisses came from Celezar when he took the hits this time, and instead of returning to fight, he began to run back. Not about to let him escape, Jean manifested a bluish-white rope into his hands and swung it around Celezar's neck, jolting his body back.

Likewise, Friedrich did the same to one of Celezar's hands, and the inhuman glared at them with a growl. Just as it looked as if the ropes were about to be pulled, both Jean and Friedrich magically tethered the ropes to the ground with a simple gesture. Another growl. A sudden ripping sound was heard before several black tendrils sprouted from Celezar's back and he bared his teeth, showing they were large, inhumanly sharp canines, not a molar in sight. He was revealing more of his inhumanity.

Friedrich touched the ropes, and they suddenly sparked with electricity. It sizzled through Celezar's body, and he let out a loud, drawn-out shriek of pain. Blood pooled around him from his back, turning black from the shockwave, and he lowered to his knees.

"Don't let off!" Jean ordered, taking notice how the remaining large tentacles were beginning to smoke and twitch from the shock to their host. He sliced another in half, then turned to watch as the being he once called his lover was electrocuted.

Celezar's eyes opened as he looked towards him. Only then did Jean's lips part, his expression wane, upon seeing the sorrow and pain that reflected in the olive gaze. The blood running down Celezar's face from the gunshots did nothing but cause the look to pierce Jean's heart, burning the scene into his memory.

He hesitated and took a step forward.

Green overwhelmed Celezar's eyes—sclera, irises and all—and in that same abrupt moment, the ground violently sunk, throwing everyone off balance. The tethers broke, and with nothing to hold him back, Celezar jumped from the sinking ground and the large tentacles retracted into the earth.

Shouting arose as the ground swallowed the hunters while Jean and Friedrich stood aboveground. Bewildered, as he had never seen an inhuman do that before, Jean watched as his men struggled to escape their earthly prisons. He then glared back up to catch Celezar slowly rising to his feet on even ground before running again.

Jean gathered magical energy beneath him, then bound up into the air and swung downward. His attack was easily dodged with a side-step, and Celezar continued into the fog. He was taken by surprise at first, but this only further irritated Jean and he quickly sheathed his sword before taking out Valk, his consecrated whip. He swung it once before lashing out into the fog where Celezar disappeared to, and immediately, the line tightened.

He held it with both hands and readied his body before giving a powerful, sharp yank. The line slackened by a bit. He smirked, only to feel a pull on the line that moved him forward by a few inches. In the next second, he was pulled off the ground, swung overhead. He cried out in surprise, and then collected himself, managing a safe land on the ground closer to Celezar, who held the whip's line with his clawed hands.

"Jean-Luc!" Nicholae called from afar.

Ignoring the shout, Jean gave his full attention to the inhuman before him, letting go of his whip. His attacks were swift, unyielding, angry. With all his might, he used Hilde to press against the immoveable claws once more. "Why?" he growled, anger and hurt reflecting in his eyes despite his tone of voice. " _Why_ did you do this to me?"

Celezar only glared at him, then swiftly kicked him away.

Spinning around, Jean sheathed Hilde. He manifested blue magic to two fingers on one hand. Quickly, he made a semi-x-shape in the air with his fingers, then crossed a line in the center. He brought his fingers down at the center before letting the magic disperse, like a magical gunshot.

Several lines of white magic emerged from his fingertips, surrounding Celezar and recreating a circle symbol around him on the ground. He teleported further away, but it followed him. In the next second, pure white energy erupted from beneath him.

Celezar's head snapped back and he let out an inhuman roar of pain, blasting Jean away from the intensity of the cry. The energy practically hid Celezar from view, but Jean saw skin peeling back, auburn hair flying up, green eyes rolled into his head. A lump grew in Jean's throat, and he looked away.

After a moment, he turned to watch as the energy disappeared.

His eyes widened in horror.

Celezar stood, his body burned beyond recognition. His clothes—or what remained of them—were stuck to his skin, charred like the rest of him. It was a terrible sight to behold.

But why was he still _standing_?

As if to answer Jean's mental question, Celezar's head snapped down, looking him dead in the eye. Jean flinched back as glowing green orbs bore into him from a horrifically burned face.

"That..." Celezar growled, his voice hoarse and demonic, " _fucking_..."

Before Jean's eyes, Celezar's body regenerated, as did his _clothes_ , as if they were a part of his body. From his hands at his sides, long, curled claws grew again as he began to approach.

"HURT!" he roared, charging forward.

Aghast and shaken, Jean raised a shield. Green flashed, and the shield shattered.

Eyes wide with fear, he looked up into the infuriated gaze, just as half the world went black.

A single claw tore through him from a lightning-fast cut from his navel to his hairline. It was broad and smooth, cutting through him as if he was mere paper. His body fell back with a heavy thud on the ground, blood splattering beneath him.

A cry rang out. "NO!"

Focusing was impossible. The pain in Jean's body was indescribable. Burning. Emptying. Vast. Blearily, he made out a form above him, but his vision was rapidly dimming, even with his right eye open.

All went silent.

Darkness overtook him as he faded.

But all too abruptly, life returned to his body in the form of a heartbeat. The searing pain that registered to his senses again began to ease to a numbing, sickening agony. His vision, while still dim, returned, though sight was still cut off on his left side.

He could breathe again, though his breath came out in wheezing rasps.

He could feel his body slowly stitch back together through unnatural means.

He could sense the sorrow and fear emitting from a warm form beside him.

They were such jarring, foreign sensations. He was utterly confused. The form beside him steadily came into focus. It was Celezar.

Celezar. His dear friend. His _dearest_ friend.

Why was he crying...?

Slowly, Jean reached up to touch him, only for his hand to be lowered gently, in an almost chastising way, back to his side. The calloused hand he only then realized was there moved from his forehead as he heard his name called in the distance.

"I didn't—I'm...so sorry..." Celezar whispered, his voice choked with emotion. Jean visibly spotted tears rolling down his face.

The warm body then tore away, leaving Jean cold and alone. It was too difficult to think.

So, he didn't. Darkness took him once more.


	2. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean awakens from his coma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I uploaded all of chapter one! Go back to reread! :) I've also decided to upload a total of ten chapters here on AO3, at least for now, but they will unfortunately have to be private. Thanks for understanding. Don't forget to read the updated notes, too.

With a gasp, Jean jolted awake. Pain ran through the left side of his body, causing him to grimace and place a hand over his heart with a hiss of discomfort. There were leads on his bare, scarred chest, and he scratched at them as a man came to his side.

"Jean?" The man placed a hand over his, urging him to stop and look up.

The man was familiar, older than him with grey hair, his brows furrowed with concern. He wore a long white medical coat, typical of his status as a doctor.

"V-Verne...?" Jean murmured, only to wince at a sharp twinge of pain in his throat. His voice was scratchy, deeply hoarse. It was barely recognizable as his.

He quickly glanced around but calmed not a second later. The blank white walls, familiar double doors down an aisle and the smell of rosemary helped calm him further in recognition. Beeping of ECG monitors reached his ears, and he realized a needle was in his arm, feeding him liquid from an IV. He was in the sickbay of his home outpost, the Cellar.

Yet something was wrong. His vision was darkened from his left side, as if something covered his eye. With trembling fingers, he reached up to touch it, only to meet the feeling of a bandage.

"Wh-what...?" He began to sit upright, but Verne ushered him back down into what was a hospital bed. "What...happened?"

Calm remorse formed on the doctor's face. "You've lost sight in your left eye, Jean."

Jean stared forward as the words set in. He recalled his his memories: The discovery of Celezar's inhumanity. The bizarre tentacles, the tendrils that came out of his back. Their confrontation. The pure look of pained anger upon a face he loved. Then, blackness.

He attacked Celezar.

Celezar attacked _him_.

Blinking, he realized another medic was in the room, the same man who was on the previous hunt with him named Musa. "What—" He briefly closed his eye with another wince.

A lever on the side of the side of the bed was cranked, putting him in a sitting position. Verne then moved to the bedside table to pour him a glass of water from a pitcher. Jean drank the gloriously cool liquid while beckoning at Musa.

"Tell me...what happened," he managed. "Start from the beginning."

Musa nodded, then glanced at the floor. "One of the drones was attacked, so Trevor lost sight of Celezar. After you went flying, we called for you for a good ten-odd minutes. We managed to get the demoness taken care of, for the most part, as you saw. After you went after Celezar, we found you and..." His face twisted into a look of pain. "We...thought you were dead, Boss. All that blood, your body like that, practically cut in half..."

Jean could almost vividly picture what he must have looked like. Everything was hazy after the darkness took him, but a few particular things stood out, including the pain. It had felt as if he was dying; there was no other way to put it. He was certain, in fact, that he _had_ died.

Such a thought jarred him, and he swallowed with some difficulty. Lowering the empty glass, which Verne took from him, he asked, "Is everyone alright?"

Musa motioned to the bed beside Jean's that was a few feet away. Looking over, Jean spotted the form of his injured comrade, Calvin, lying asleep in it.

"His chest wound was deep, but thankfully away from his heart," Verne explained, moving between the two beds. "Butch, on the other hand, was up in less than a day. That man's durability continuously astounds me."

At the thought of his axe-wielding companion, Jean cracked a small smile. Looking back at Musa, he asked, "And the island?"

"Augusus won't easily recover from the inferno." Musa leaned against the bed's footboard. "As Ulrich explained, half—if not more—of the island was in flames. Your family sent some donations over to help with the recovery."

Exhaling softly, Jean softly prayed for the victims. Augusus Island was one of many near their isle. Just as he began to open his mouth, Verne gave him a look.

"The update on what happened to Augusus can come once you've recovered, Jean," the doctor said, his voice stern. "You've been asleep for roughly four days, not counting the majority of today."

Jean glanced past the doctor and medic at the window on the other side of the room. It looked as if it could be late afternoon. He looked back at Verne. "Four days?"

"Yes. You were careless."

Musa winced, whereas Jean closed his eye.

"Whether you thought it was someone you knew or not, you went after an unknown inhuman _alone_ ," the doctor continued.

Jean's jaw locked, and he had half a mind not to glare at the older man. Verne of all people would know _exactly_ why he went after Celezar when he did.

Despite all of that, Celezar, as an inhuman, shouldn't have been able to pass through the protective barrier that surrounded their home, wield blessed swords, survive dousings of holy water, or anything that would otherwise expose, if not outright kill, most inhumans.

Yet he did. He had to be something the Lowell Hunters never encountered before. From what Jean knew, Celezar was something no modern-day hunter had encountered before.

At the thought, Jean's expression darkened, and he opened his eye. The thought of such a possibility was almost laughable. Yet there was no denying what he saw.

"I understand," he said, raising his voice a bit. It still wasn't very loud. "I'm in this situation because I was brash. Angry."

"Indeed." Verne moved past a frowning Musa, whose look he ignored.

"What's the status of my condition?"

"I checked you earlier. Aside from your coma from then, your body is fatigued. Severely fatigued. I can only imagine this is from your abnormal use of stamina to recover. Otherwise, nothing else seems to be amiss. However," said Verne, his brows furrowing, "when you first arrived, you were in near fatal condition. The cut that went through your body was broad enough that it sliced through you from your larynx and esophagus, your left lung, a part of your heart, and lower organs. Even a good bit of your head and brain. Obviously, you should have died. Instead, you've been recovering as if you have a healing factor. Regardless, I'm certain your throat won't heal since it hasn't yet."

Jean's expression steadily worsened as he took this in. He slowly nodded. "Celezar. He...healed me."

Musa looked contemplative, and Verne arched a brow with passive interest. "Why would he do that after attacking you?"

"He said he was...sorry." Jean recalled the words said to him, dreamlike but clear.

Musa tilted his head to the side. "That's unusual inhuman behavior...But then, there's nothing ordinary about any of this. I'll inform the others you're awake." He nodded before leaving down the long aisle that led out of the sickbay.

The moment Musa went through the large double-doors, Jean's more serious demeanor lessened considerably to one of somber resignation. "Am I clear?"

Verne shifted, coming to the left side of the bed. "Yes. I checked for that immediately. Your tests came back entirely clean. You aren't tainted," he softly assured.

Unconvinced, Jean's hands clenched. Tearing his mind from the thought, he shook his head. "What are the reactions to this? The other outposts?"

Verne crossed his arms. "The Visces, Tuomas, the Echos, and the Lichts didn't know. They are all deeply disturbed to know what happened, particularly the Visces and Lichts. The Echos are rightfully confused. He received a mark, like every other hunter. It's...unprecedented."

Jean didn't press the issue. If those people and groups didn't know Celezar was inhuman, they wouldn't get answers anywhere. Everyone should have taken it into consideration that Celezar was something else, something new. He had to be.

"Fine," Jean muttered to himself. He looked up at Verne. "So. What's the verdict?"

"Your condition or Celezar?"

"Both."

"The Visces put a warrant on his human form. We're all hoping that makes finding him easier, if by a margin." Verne took a clipboard from the wall beside Jean's bed. He looked over it, flipping back some papers. "You will remain on bedrest until I say otherwise."

Jean's expression twisted somewhat. "Fine..."

"You have no say in the matter."

"Yes, sir."

"Very good." Verne took out a pen and wrote something on a page. "The hunts have increased over the past four days. Artie is currently on a hunt."

Jean looked forward, staring at nothing. He merely nodded, then closed his eye.

He heard Verne walk away, presumably to his office by the sound of it. In seconds, the sickbay was quiet, save for the sounds of the monitors examining his and Calvin's conditions. In seconds, he was bombarded with thoughts and memories.

He recalled one time he was left in the sickbay on bedrest and Celezar visited him. He recalled all the times he spent with Celezar, including the last time before their hunt on Augusus. His teeth clenched, and he tried to divert his thoughts to something else.

But the last memory stuck with him. Passion. There had been passion...so much of it, it had been intoxicating...

His right eye began to sting, his throat clenched tightly. He couldn't even allow himself to mourn. It wasn't as if Celezar was dead. Why _couldn't_ he just be dead? It would hurt, but at least the memories would mean something.

Turning his head to the side, he tried not to let it get to him. As if to spite him, warm moisture ran down the right side of his face and into the pillow. Slowly, he reached to brush his fingers over the bandage covering his left eye.

_Why...?_


	3. The Farce of Normalcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean gets off bedrest to face another uneasy day.

Jean's visible eye stared forward, listless and gazing distantly while his mind drowned out the sound of Verne's voice. The soft murmurs were background noise, a dull, low drone in his ears. After a moment of staring, sitting on the sickbay bed, he softly sighed.

He glanced over at Calvin, who was sitting upright in his bed as Verne gave him one last checkup. As Verne gave _them_ one last checkup. They were both on the mend after two days of bedrest and there didn't seem to be much reason to keep them bedridden anymore, which Jean couldn't be more thankful for. Bedrest never ceased to make him feel invalid, useless and irritable.

Turning from Calvin, Verne nodded at them. "You are both fit for hunting again." He softly huffed. "All I ask is that you don't push yourself too hard. Particularly you, Jean."

Jean nodded and stood from the bed. He didn't feel a sting in his left side, anymore. He felt surprisingly fine, but that was no longer anything new.

Across from Verne's office within the sickbay just before a pair of doors was a large bathroom with accessible showers. Jean took a change of clothes resting atop the bedside table and entered the restroom to wash up. A few seconds after entering, he heard the door open behind him. He glanced back to see Calvin who apparently had the same idea as he did

He eyed the nasty patchwork-like and nearly hypertrophic scar on his comrade's bare chest, then exhaled before entering a shower stall. He closed the curtain and stripped himself of his clothes, then turned the water dial to hot.

He needed to cleanse himself, rid himself of _his_ touch.

A shudder went through him, and he stepped into the scalding barrage. It hurt, but he had felt—was feeling—far worse.

The sound of another shower running reached his ears, and he took a moment to let himself wallow in the feelings that had continuously threatened to overcome him.

First, there was nothing. His head held low, he stared between his locks at the shower floor. No matter how hard he tried, Celezar had remained on his mind over the past two days. He had stopped fighting it after a while, becoming numb to the clenching of his heart and the stinging of his eye. But this time, as his eye stung, moisture began to roll down his face and mixed with the water beating down on him.

For the umpteenth time, he thought of it. Why couldn't Celezar just be dead? It would hurt, yes. It would be _so painful_. But it wouldn't be this. All these six years with him...They were lies.

Shuddering again, he shakily exhaled, placing a hand on the wall. He bit his lip to prevent himself from sobbing, then shut his eye. He felt at the ugly raised scar on his face. It would be a reminder of what he did. It was a good punishment, to be disfigured. But maybe it wasn't good enough.

Before he was aware of it, Calvin was leaving the bathroom. He heard sounds of movement even with the beating of the water upon him. Shortly, the bathroom door closed.

Only then did he sob. The tears fell unbidden down his face, the taste of salt slipped into his open mouth along with hot water.

He was tainted. He was filthy. No amount of washing would ever rid him of all they had done.

Lowering to the shower floor, he curled into himself, holding his head with his fingers digging into his scalp.

 _How...?_ No inhuman could have remained under the radar the way Celezar had.

 _Why...?_ If only Jean had known, if _only_ he had known.

It hurt. Losing the Celezar he loved, losing a close friend...and he felt ugly. So painfully ugly.

Was this punishment? He was told, it was hammered into him, that homosexual relationships were immoral. Was this his punishment for going against that, for being selfish?

There was no answer.

Of course, there was no answer.

He felt he could have stayed in the bathroom forever, but he eventually stood and turned the water to a lukewarm temperature before washing his flushed skin. His movement was automatic, his eye lidded as he stared forward at nothing. Steadily, he made the water temperature colder and let it linger, then left the shower.

After drying, he dressed into his usual clothes with the addition of a black eyepatch and left the stall. He threw his other clothes into a hamper, then took a moment to look himself over in the mirror. He looked about as bad as he felt, but at least his skin wasn't nearly as red.

He left the bathroom, donning an outward mask and forcibly quenching his emotions...at least for the moment.

Verne was inside the office, and Jean's bed was already neatened. No doubt the servants swooped in and did their job. He glanced around at the feeling of tingling in his veins from their receding presences, then walked down the aisle between the hospital beds until he reached the double-doors. Even after all these years, the hold his blood had over the servants was unnerving, and now all the more so.

Past the doors was a slightly raised hall leading to a large anteroom with an open entrance and fencelike floor-to-ceiling windows lacking glass. There was a bar to the left where some of his men were. The moment he was spotted, warm smiles greeted him.

It was different to take everything in with one eye. He felt that colors were slightly warmer. His vision also wasn't as good as he would have liked. Quietly, he vowed to righten that. He managed a small smile at his men, allowing them to scrutinize him as he approached the center of the anteroom.

The man who then approached him was his brother-in-law, Hugh, who placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's good to see you on two feet, Jean."

Jean gave a small nod. "Yeah. It's about time."

Winces were made at the sound of his voice. Jean noticed Calvin, who was also their designated barman, already behind the bar counter. He shook his head at him for going back to the alcohol, and the platinum-blond caught the look, returning it with a shrug and a smile.

"What did Verne say about your throat?" Musa asked as he stood near the counter.

Led to the bar by Hugh, Jean sat between him and an older man on a stool. "It probably won't heal if he hasn't yet. Everything else has started to, so..." At the sounds of remorse, he gave a nonchalant shrug. Injuries were expected in their line of work. He would have been in lesser spirits if he had lost an arm or leg.

Calvin's lips pursed before he beckoned to the drinks behind him. "Fancy a drink, at least?"

"Ah...I'll pass. It'll probably only aggravate my throat, anyway. Where are the others?"

Gulliver, the man at his left side, tapped his fingers on the counter. "All the men but Nicholae are hunting. He's around here, somewhere."

Jean's head lowered in thought. "How have things been?"

"Not the same, of course," Gulliver answered with a slight scowl. "We've...had time to take it all in."

"No sign of _him_ since?"

The men understood who Jean was referring to, as they each shook their heads or gave irate huffs. "No idea," said Hugh. "Not so much as peep of him since that day, even with the sudden increase of incidences with Infernals. None of the other outposts have seen him, either. He's still out there, doing Creator knows what."

"We took everything of his and purified them," Gulliver informed. "The entire Cellar was purified, too. Everyone took tests—even his horse. We all passed, which is odd..."

"Makes you wonder what the hell he was up to for six years." Hugh beckoned to a bottle of alcohol for Calvin to pour for him.

"There has to be something we missed." Jean stared at the counter. "If not to infiltrate and influence us, then what?"

No one answered.

He glanced at Hugh. "How are Ulrich and Tristan handling the rise in attacks?" he asked, mentioning his brothers.

"As well as you can imagine," Hugh sighed. He waved a hand, holding a glass of whiskey in the other. "They've had to start working with the government to keep media coverage to a minimum, if it can be helped. It's just overwhelming them."

At the mention of the government, Jean frowned. It was best not to think about that, either. "No incidences?"

"None, thank goodness. Not on their front nor ours."

Satisfied, Jean went quiet. Idly, he brushed his hand over the scar on his neck, feeling some eyes examining him. There was much he wanted to talk about, but at the same time, he wanted a considerable amount of time alone.

Turning around on the stool, he slipped down. "I've some reports to read over, I reckon."

Only hesitant acknowledgements were made behind him. Not minding, he walked into his office at the right side of the anteroom and a staircase leading downstairs. The office was a generously-sized room with a long couch against the left wall, several bergères facing it, a rug in-between and a large coffee table atop it. At the wall straight ahead and to the middle of the room was his desk.

He moved to sit behind it, noticing a Manilla envelope with his cousin Artie's handwriting on it that read, "Reports". Thankful for the diligence as his second-in-command, Jean sat down and opened the envelope. He could use a healthy distraction from what had been haunting him for the past two days.

~::~

The smell of food brought him out of his nose-deep dive into the reports. His stomach cramped angrily, but he didn't want to get up at the moment. For a few minutes more, he returned to taking notes and reading.

Shortly after, there was a knock at the door.

Blinking up from the paper-covered desk, he glanced at the clock over the couch. Several hours had passed since he entered the office. His attention then diverted to the door as the brown eye belonging to Nicholae peeked inside. Beckoning him in, Jean stood from his desk.

Nicholae slipped in, keeping the door in its formerly cracked position. Upon his face was a sad smile. "Ah, Jean," he sighed. Reaching up, he brushed a finger along the patch over his right eye. "You've finally joined the ranks of us who lost parts of their body."

Moving from the desk, Jean gave his uncle an embrace that was warmly returned. He made a small grin. "It was always a possibility."

Humming, Nicholae slightly tilted his head to the side. "It was, yes. It's a miracle you're alive. When we came upon your body, you were..." He eyed his nephew's scar. Slowly, his head shook with disbelief and he blinked a few times. "Half your body was beyond recognition."

His expression dropping, Jean glanced away as his mind unwillingly returned to that day. For the first time in many hours, he thought of Celezar. Against his will, he wondered where he was, now. Was he behind the recent killings by and sightings of Infernals? _Was_ Celezar an Infernal...?

"Jean?"

His eye briefly closed, and he shook his head. "Sorry." He reached up to rub his forehead.

Frowning, Nicholae placed a hand on his shoulder. "You should take it easy. Have you eaten anything today?"

"No. I was caught up in the reports. Maybe Celezar has something to do with the attacks..."

The warm gaze in his uncle's eye bled to a calculating expression. "You think so?"

"Why not? He disappears and then this happens?" He glared at the reports upon his desk. "It's a possibility."

Nicholae slowly nodded in agreement. "Indeed."

Stronger smells of food wafted through the room, prompting hunger pangs to brutally attack Jean's insides. He grimaced, then patted his uncle's arm. "We'll talk about it later. I'm starving," he said, and Nicholae's demeanor relaxed as he smiled.

They left the office, leaving the door open behind them. The smells of dinner continued through the anteroom, and as they traveled down the left staircase and through the hall to the dining room, Jean could have started salivating.

The sight of the room's lavish decorations never ceased to be a jarring contrast to the rest of the Cellar to Jean. Beige curtains draped the corners of the room above small tables with light sconces between them. A long, rectangular brown table covered with a beige tablecloth stood in the center of the room.

While there were no windows, there was a ventilation system, and its soft drone was drowned out by the noises of voices as men entered the room. Calvin and Trevor were already seated, and the sound of chairs moving along the wooden floor resonated beneath the voices.

At the far end of the room was a large banquet table adorned with sizable white doilies. Servants with glowing yellow eyes entered from swinging doors leading to the kitchen to place food upon it. Varieties of comestibles began to fill the table, ranging from Alkebulanic to Zhōngguón cuisine. Nearer to the banquet table at the left side of the room was a fully stocked bar.

Jean and Nicholae were not immediately noticed when they entered the room, but a man named Raphael's hazel eyes which bore a magnificent yellow shine glanced over at him.

A smile immediately broke out on the man's face. "Boss! You're up!"

Instantaneously, heads and eyes turned into Jean's direction, followed by looks of relief and smiles upon beaming faces.

Smiling back, Jean walked further inside. He accepted the claps upon his shoulders and pats from his men. His gaze roamed around the room to take in the many faces, including that of his cousin, Artie. Everyone had returned from the hunt, making it a full room with a total of fourteen men.

"Jean-Luc, my man!" Artie laughed, giving him a hearty hug. He looked his cousin over. "Good to see you out of bed. How are you feeling?" A serious expression crossed his face.

Taking a moment to answer, Jean made a light shrug. "Well enough."

Artie looked somewhat morose at the sound of his voice. "Define 'well enough', Jean, you were split in half."

Relenting to this, Jean recanted, "I feel perfectly healthy, but...uneasy. All things considered."

Artie pursed his lips in understanding. He then sighed and beckoned to the table. "I doubt you've eaten yet."

"I have not."

"Speaking of which," said Verne from the table, "Calvin and Jean, please don't engorge too much."

"Sent, doc," Calvin said with a two-fingered salute.

Jean gave the doctor a nod, then moved towards the table. "Let's eat, men."

They didn't need to be told twice. Steadily, not all at once, they approached the banquet laid out for them. Food piled on plates, glasses filled with liquids. Conversations began around the room, laughter barked out at inside jokes.

As Jean sat back down at the head of the table with a full plate, he couldn't help but smile a bit. He always enjoyed the company of his men, who were far more like his family than his own biological one save for Friedrich, Nicholae and Artie. For a moment, he took a look around the room, patiently waiting for everyone to sit before eating.

His gaze then lingered on the spot just a space over at his right were an empty chair stood. Once upon a time, Celezar sat there. There were once fifteen of them, and most to all traces of Celezar ever existing in the outpost were gone. With a huff,  Jean tore his eyes away from the chair. He wasn't going to let his emotions get overcome him, not now.

Shortly, everyone was sitting at the table. Conversations continued, interrupted only by brief moments of prayer from a few of the men before dining began. Jean ate in silence. It was also difficult for him to truly engage in any conversation with his voice so low and hoarse. He would be drowned out by the other louder, boisterous voices. Perhaps if the table was quiet he could be heard.

A flash of hazel-yellow caught his eye and he looked at Raphael. The younger man sat some seats away on the other side of the table and was looking at him.

Once their eyes met, Raphael asked, "What's the plan of action, Boss?"

At first, Jean blinked. He didn't quite understand the question, but there was something in the other man's expression that helped him piece a meaning together. He glanced down, looking for an answer within himself. A gradual silence settled at the table as more awaited his response.

Once there was a near-perfect silence at the table aside from the sounds of dining, Jean looked up at them. "Firstly, can everyone hear me?"

At the farthest end of the table, some eyes squinted, their owners clearly unable to hear him. He sighed to himself, then watched Trevor pass something down the table.

"Modified an earpiece for you while you were on bedrest, Boss," the technician explained with a smile.

The item reached Jean before long, passed to him by Friedrich at his right. His eyes roamed over it while taking it between his fingers. It looked identical to the normal communication devices they used. It was roughly five inches long with a piece that went into the ear, hooking over the helix, a flat side that acted as the control panel, and the longest piece that served as the microphone. However, there were a few small dials that weren't there before.

"The blue dial is an amplifier," Trevor continued. "If you hold it, it connects to the radio, and to turn it off, do the same thing."

Putting it over and into his ear, Jean turned it on and pressed the blue dial. A soft sound buzzed in his ear before going silent. "Can everyone hear me?" he asked again, only to be surprised at how much louder his voice was. It was just a bit louder than his old voice, and without being told, he turned the knob upwards by a bit. "Thanks, Trev."

A wide grin was given to him. "My pleasure, Boss."

Jean focused back on everyone. "Right, then. I've read the reports," he said, his voice still painfully hoarse, but clearly audible. "Four attacks in five days is unprecedented. It barely gives us time to rest between hunts. I am truly thankful you've been able to take on this challenge while taking only mild to moderate injuries. As for the other side of things, I want your thoughts on the matter."

A wave of varying expressions overcame the men's faces. Some were irritated. Others were contemplative. There were even some neutral expressions.

"I think Celezar is involved with what's been happening," said Gulliver. He raised a hand. "The timing is perfect."

The youngest of a pair of twins, Robin, made a face of disagreement. "I don't know. He was with us the whole time."

"Except when he wasn't," said his brother, Lucas, who sat beside him. "He went to the mainland quite a bit."

"That's not exactly grounds for suspicion," Musa said, "considering he has alibis for several of those times."

"That doesn't make up for the times he was off the map," Lucas pressed.

"I still doubt it..."

Nicholae gave a single but somewhat reluctant nod. "I agree with Lucas. We simply don't know."

"Yeah, there could be any number of things that were going on when he wasn't with others," Calvin added.

Friedrich huffed, his eyes focused on his food as he cut into a steak. "I think...I'm almost _certain_ he has something to do with this mess." He looked up to address everyone. "Why else would the demoness awaken after he came in contact with its location?"

"Agreed," said Butch. "And what about his radio silence before reappearing again?"

Jean took this into consideration as conversation continued around him. These were excellent points. Why _did_ the demoness appear when Celezar arrived at its location? Could it be mere coincidence? Why _did_ Celezar engage in radio silence prior to saving his life? Shaking his head, he ignored the tightening feeling that began to grow in his chest.

He glanced at his men. "He was behind the attacks, then. The question is why."

"Aye," said Nicholae.

Other voices of agreement sounded off, save from Musa, who raised his hands while shaking his head as he conceded.

"Whichever way you look at it," said Verne, who sat with his arms crossed, "we have to wait. There's nothing we can do from our end at this point in time."

Jean nodded, his eye tightening. "But he _will_ appear again..." He settled back into his chair and raised his utensils to continue eating.

With a sigh, Raphael returned his attention to his food. "I guess."

"No, he _will_ ," said Hugh, who looked entirely irritated to be speaking of an inhuman at all.

Steadily, the conversation drifted from talk of Celezar's whereabouts to talk of any possible time he may have showed his inhumanity.

Jean really didn't want to hear that. Because, from his very intimate experience, there were plenty possible times Celezar did. The very thought made Jean feel wretchedly self-conscious and sick, and so he shut his eye in the attempt to ignore the conversation going on around him.

Celezar had to make a reappearance, eventually. Something simply told Jean he would. If not for any logical reason...maybe for an illogical one. His hand clenched tightly around his fork at the throb his heart made.

His traitorous mind privately hoped for that illogical reason.


	4. Nightmare (The Living)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his first hunt since the Augusus incident, Jean and his men encounter something far worse than anything known in human history.

Life at the Cellar wasn't the same for Jean without Celezar. There was a lingering, unique sense of loneliness that made him painfully despondent. Hiding that dejection was a personal challenge, but the few times he knew for certain it slipped out, it seemed there was a sort of unsaid understanding between him and his men—some of them, anyway.

He sighed heavily to himself, trying and failing to make his thoughts leave him alone as he walked up the stairs from the barracks. It was early morning and he had finished washing up for the day. While entering the anteroom, he spotted Ulrich watching television with Nicholae, Calvin, Trevor, and Raphael. His brother stood behind them as they sat at the bar counter, his arms folded and looking concerned.

Upon seeing him, Ulrich beckoned him over with his head. "You should see this, Jean."

Curious, Jean came closer, peeking at the television to watch a clip of a news report.

The screen showed a reporter standing a distance from what appeared to be a large thunderstorm behind her. Her hair whisked angrily around her face from the wind and she struggled to keep it at bay. " _...has been experiencing bizarre weather patterns isolated to its direct location. All communication between Ridridge and its neighboring districts ceased several hours ago._ "

Brows furrowing, Jean looked at his brother. "What's going on?"

"No one can get close to the Ridridge District in Fayette, Narrapansett, so we're not sure what we're dealing with," Ulrich explained. "It's been this way since it started roughly four hours ago. At first, it didn't seem to be anything more than some sort of power failure, or something of the sort, but it's been some time now and stranger things are happening."

"Stranger how?"

Trevor turned around, a laptop in front of him on the counter. His expression was one of solemnity. "Contact was lost with some members of the Wisk Hunters that went to survey the area. In fact, their helicopter went down a few minutes ago, as if something attacked them."

Jean frowned. The Wisk Hunters were from the Northeast of the neighboring supercountry, Clovure. "Is Askuwheteau alright?"

Pursing his lips, the technician shook his head. "It was Megedagik who contacted me."

" _Cree_ ," Jean sharply swore, closing his eye. He then whispered a prayer. That was just one of many hunter deaths that had occurred since the rise in Infernal activity. Furthermore, Askuwheteau was a leader; the death toll wasn't even counting the amount of hunter members who had died.

Ulrich uncrossed his arms and began to leave the outpost. "I'll get on it."

"Be careful, Ulrich," Jean called, glancing to catch his brother wave his hand as he exited. He then moved towards the left entrance at the back of the anteroom, passing the bar. "Trev, call for the helicopter."

"On it, Boss."

Beyond the bar, accessed by two entrances, was where the armory was located. Hilde was kept there, whereas Jean carried Ringe whether he was on a hunt or not. Several vials of liquids, including holy water and rosemary extract, sat within a cabinet, and he took several to strap onto a belt he flanked across his chest and his waist. Other instruments he brought with him were his dagger Sig, his whip Valk, and small explosives—all blessed. Lastly, he collected several magazines of extra bullets for his gun.  

The sound of men entering the other room met his ears, and he called, "Raphael, Trevor, Artie, Lucas, Hugh, and Butch. To me."

The moment the words left his mouth, the aforementioned men entered the armory to gather their weapons. As he already did so, Jean left to reenter the anteroom. The rest of the men were watching the television now, though their eyes focused on him when he appeared. He approached the coatrack to don his black, hooded duster.

When he turned around, his chosen men stood at the ready, strapped for the hunt. Turning on his earpiece, he asked, "Trevor, what do we know?"

Standing with the laptop balancing on one hand, the light of the screen reflected off the technician's glasses. "Heavy and unusual fog has clouded the district and even the clouds are almost black in color. There is also a powerful thunderstorm, but it's beginning to ease off. The last thing heard from Askuwheteau's group were calls for help from the helicopter before it crashed."

Jean considered this. The clouds and fog were new. "Very well. Our job should be the usual: infiltrate the isolated zone, locate the inhumans and obliterate them. We bring the Dragonflies with us. The inhumans might respond to them." He looked at Friedrich, who was to be in charge while he and Artie were away.

His uncle saluted with two fingers. "Creator be with you."

The sound of a helicopter nearing sounded in the air. Giving a salute back, Jean nodded, then turned around and left the outpost.

Narrapansett was considerably close to Isle Veni, their homeland. It was a neighbor of the countries Connecticut and Iroquin?. They would arrive in less than fifteen minutes by helicopter.

In seconds, the helicopter was landing some distance away on the grass. The servant exited moments after landing the aircraft and moved a respectful distance away before bowing at the waist. While Jean glanced at them, he quickly cut his eyes away and opened the side door. After entering he was shortly followed by the others save for Raphael, who entered the cockpit.

As the helicopter was already running, they were in the air in moments.

The ride was smooth sailing, and Jean's eye was closed as he sat strapped in the cabin. For the first few seconds of the ride, he said soft prayers for the fallen hunters. Quiet conversation went on around him, but it was a low drone in the background.

It was hard to believe it was a week since he was attacked...

His jaw suddenly clenched. He didn't need to think about _him_ at a time like this.

" _We're here, Boss. There's something going on down there and further ahead_ ," Raphael channeled over the radio. " _I...don't know what to make of this_."

Frowning, Jean leaned slightly forward to see past Raphael's chair and beyond the window. His eyes widened in surprise and awe.

Indeed, he didn't quite know what to call what he was looking at, not at first glance. Dark clouds pouring what even at a distance looked like torrential rain over the district rumbled high in the air. They were menacing, unnatural, and the grumbling of thunder was heard even from their proximity. Interestingly, lightning seemed nonexistent, but the fog was worse. Thick haze hid the district from view from the ground up. It, too, seemed fallacious and uncanny.

" _What's it look like to you, Boss?_ " Raphael asked.

"Possibly an hala...or hali, if we're unlucky. Possibly a jinn, if we're _really_ unlucky..." Jean pursed his lips in thought.

" _Want me to land?_ "

"Yeah. Set us down out the radius of the district."

" _Sent_."

The helicopter circled the area, keeping a good distance away. It allowed those within the cabin to have a clear view of the storm.

"Unreal," Lucas breathed, turned almost completely in his seat to look out the window.

Butch frowned. "Even if it was a group of hali, they're not native to this area."

Jean didn't comment, eyeing the storm as they began to land. He caught a glimpse of several red and blue lights some distance away, likely from Ulrich and his group working things out with the local officials. He wouldn't be surprised if the Wisk Hunter's envoy was also there.

"True, but hali are demons," Artie reminded, "and at this point, I wouldn't be surprised. We should assume we could be up against any sort of Infernal."

Nodding at his cousin's words, Jean tore his eye away from the window as the helicopter landed on an open grassy area beside a hill. He unstrapped himself and moved to open the right side door. His hair fluttered in his face, and he looked between blond tresses at the isolated storm in the distance.

In the early morning light, the clouds were so dark they were visibly noticeable. It set the atmosphere for what was already a dismal and somber sight of the abandoned district. Mist drizzled about the small group as they exited the helicopter to stand on the hillside overlooking the quarter. Jean moved to stand atop the hill and donned small goggles from a pocket, only for his gaze to darken. His lips moved in a silent prayer, and he lowered his head, briefly closing his eye. He then looked forward at the sight before him through night-vision, eyeing the blood and carnage left behind from what was undoubtedly an inhuman attack.

By now, several hours had passed since the last of the authorities attempted to enter the district and the result were the bodies—or what remained of them—scattered about between the distant fog and the beginnings of the quarter. The longer Jean stared into the distance, the more he realized the fog was steadily clearing up, though the rain continued to fall. That was either a good omen or a bad one. They would be foolish to imagine it was anything but bad.

He glanced back at Lucas and Butch, who were retrieving the drones while Trevor tinkered with something within the helicopter. All of the men were also wearing the goggles. Three bronze, tube-like devices roughly seven diameters wide and three feet long were placed atop the hill near Jean. Trevor emerged from the helicopter with a console and monitor strapped over his shoulder, much like a front-facing backpack. It was comprised of two screens back-to-back, both displaying the same visuals.

The drones were activated from the console, and from their sides, four rust-colored legs emerged. The front domes' protective covering retracted, revealing round camera lenses. All three drones sprouted artificial wings that appeared akin to an insect's, giving them an appearance like a dragonfly's. The view staring towards the horizon flickered on the screens, split in the center for drone A at the top left, drone B beside it, and below both was drone C. With night vision activated, the screen showed a clear view of the lightless district.

Immediately, the Dragonflies raised off the ground, their wings beating rapidly with a low buzz. Moving aside, Jean watched them promptly dart away. He looked after them until they were out of sight, then turned around to face the back monitor. The others had already gathered nearby to watch.

Bodies upon bodies, some discernible, some unrecognizable, were visible within the district for as far as the Dragonflies could project. Dragonfly-A stayed to the main road, going in deeper until it neared what should have been livelier streets with restaurants and banks, stores and offices. A downtown area was littered with bodies, signs of conflict and disarray every which way. Buildings had collapsed and carriages were upturned. But all signs of life were gone.

Dragonfly-B went to the right of the district, showing the horrid display of carriages and cars abandoned on the streets, homes partially destroyed with people and animals alike strewn about, missing limbs and parts of their bodies eaten off. Despite the carnage, despite the horror, there was no sign of whatever monster that committed the acts.

"It's gotta be Infernal," Raphael said softly as he watched.

Jean crossed his arms. "Such senseless killing; what else could it be? It certainly isn't a hala."

They fell silent as something flickered on Dragonfly-C's screen while it traveled through a residential area. Something very clearly snuck into a garden apartment, its body dark and indiscernible. The drone's presence was rousing some life.

Dragonfly-B's screen began to flicker and wane a bit.

"Technical difficulties?" Hugh asked.

Trevor hummed, his brows furrowing. "Shouldn't be. I worked on them recently." He tweaked some knobs. "There seems to be some sort of interference."

"Some sort of energy Infernal?" asked Lucas.

"Ah...somewhat doubtful, I think."

"Not improbable," Hugh reminded. "Remember Alastors? The bastards can possess technology."

Lucas made a face. "Well, they moved with the times, it seems," he muttered dryly.

"Gremlins, too."

"It'd be nice if we were only dealing with Gremlins..." At the looks given to him, Lucas cocked a brow. "It's not like they can't get violent."

Butch gave a heavy sigh, folding his arms over his broad chest. "With this weather manipulation, do you really think it's a Gremlin?"

The younger man's brows scrunched together. "Well, no—"

They fell silent when Dragonfly-C caught sight of whatever it was within the apartments. Trevor's fingers flew over the console's keys, and the view on its camera zoomed in while the drone slowed.

Something was visible through a window, and it was moving quickly. The thing, clearly anthropomorphic, disappeared down a hall or around a corner within the apartment.

Trevor looked from the screen to Jean, wordlessly asking a question.

Jean caught the glance and responded, "There has to be at least a few inhumans in the area."

The abrupt shattering of a window startled them, and they watched as the body of a man was thrown out, only for his head to meet a concrete wall and crack open. Each of them grimaced or glowered at the screen.

"Anyone see that?" Raphael suddenly asked, staring intently. Several sets of eyes glanced at him before returning to the monitor. The hazel-yellow of his eyes flashed and he said to Trevor, "Turn on infrared vision."

Without hesitating, the technician pressed a button, immediately displaying strong colors on a darkened background. It revealed a large, crouched figure slinking backward in the darkened apartment.

"There!" Raphael pointed at the screen above the figure's head. Shortly after he said this, the figure disappeared around a corner again.

Hugh nodded, leaning back. "I saw it. Horns," he said with a scowl.

As Raphael, Trevor and Artie nodded, Jean and the others shared frowns. It was an Infernal, after all.

Trevor piloted the drone to back away from the window and turned the infrared vision off. His eyes stayed fixed on Dragonfly-B's screen. As it neared the district's eastern side, it was having even more difficulty, so he began to pull it back. "Well, whatever Infernals did this, they're being sloppy as hell," he idly commented.

"Exactly that," Jean agreed.

The technician briefly frowned before programming the second drone back to the helicopter. "Even the lowest class of Infernal in this day and age know better than to be this careless. It's almost as if they don't care what comes after them."

Artie shook his head, his arms crossing. "I don't like it. First, they let us get so close and now only one of them has shown itself...?"

Jean nodded his way, then looked back at the screen. "Could be a trap."

"What about it being some young Infernals?" Raphael asked, spinning knives between lithe, scarred fingers.

"That's almost as bad," said Butch. "Not to mention we've no idea what sort of Infernals we're dealing with."

Lucas looked between them, his eyes flickering left and right. "So, we're going in?"

Jean inclined his head a bit. "We don't have much of a choice," he said steadily, "but I'm wary." He looked at Butch, Artie, and Hugh as Raphael moved to get something within the helicopter.

Standing at the ready, Artie nodded at him. "I am too, but as you said, what choice do we have?"

"Then keep radio silence if you can help it and stick together." Jean placed a hand on his shoulder.

The three men nodded at him, checking their gear one last time. Raphael returned with three headpieces that looked almost like masks, which contained cameras at the center of their forehead, but for safety reasons, there was no light to indicate if they were on. Brushing back their hair, they donned the masks and a low hum sounded before going silent. They turned on flashlights attached to their coats before running over the hill together, going around instead of straight forward by way of the main road into the district.

Watching them, Jean whispered a soft prayer their way. He glanced back at Trevor, who was attaching the console to a larger one Lucas and Raphael took from out of the helicopter. Appearing much like a control panel, its four legs had tractors and Trevor stood at the center. After attaching the small console to its left side, a screen rose from the center. It operated the same as the other upon the console with dual monitors.

Artie's view was on the top, with Hugh and Butch's on the left and right at the bottom, respectively. All three monitors were in infrared view. There was nothing much to see but the gore of mangled, half-eaten bodies and hanging innards scattered around what was once a lively, thriving district.

Artie led the way, and through hand gestures, he beckoned them down a path to the right. It went through an industrial area, likely where the district's power was located. They went down the path, and all otherwise seemed as empty and barren as it could be.

For several long minutes, they traversed the district, finding a small, open train station that had been mostly destroyed, bodies strewn about chaotically and smoking trains upturned off the tracks. There was nothing of interest there, and so they continued. Through empty streets, they came upon what was once a house of worship, completely obliterated to pieces; it could only be identified by the pieces left behind, which included several religious books, and by the clothes worn on what remained of the bodies.

Another stretch of silence and inactivity passed. Lifting his hand in a fist and rotating it, Artie told Hugh and Butch to retreat the way they came. There was nothing toward what was leaving the district from the right. And if there was, they weren't showing their presence.

The lack of activity was steadily making Jean antsy. By now, at least one Infernal would have attacked them. It was strange enough that they had been allowed into the district without a fight when the group just before them was instantly killed. It did not bode well.

Eventually, the men decided to travel to the residential area where the apartment complex was. The moment they neared the street parallel to the field, it was evident by watching that they started to become uneasy. They were looking around more, looking at each other, realizing the other was just as perturbed, and their expressions were becoming more and more agitated.

"Something's wrong," said Raphael, his fingers still.

It wasn't just Jean; all of them seemed to be feeling anxious about the lack of movement. Trevor and Lucas murmured agreements. But there was nothing visible that could be causing the men's unease.

"They must be close to the Infernals?" Lucas questioned as he looked at Jean.

"Yeah, but what sort of Infernal makes a human so nervous?" Jean asked, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Their amulets should protect them, though, right?" the brunet asked again.

"Should," Trevor murmured.

Jean's eye narrowed and he shifted on his feet. If their anxiety was caused by some outside source, a talisman _should_ nullify it.

Suddenly, all three screens froze as the men simultaneously went still. Artie turned to Hugh and quickly raised four fingers into a 'v' and motioned forward, indicating an inhuman was up ahead. From Artie's view, Hugh and Butch nodded their heads. All three men turned to look towards one of the apartments, which had a trail of blood leading to it on the ground.

They remained frozen for a moment, staring at the blood. The same thought seemed to pass through their minds when they suddenly moved in unison. Artie signaled he was going to turn back, taking a spray can out of a pocket, and Hugh and Butch nodded swiftly at him, urging him to move faster.

Jean leaned forward, brows furrowed with concern. "What's going on? Why's Artie about to make a sigil?" he muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

"Boss...BOSS..."

He quickly looked at Lucas, who had been tapping his arm, only to see he and Raphael were staring off at something away from them towards the district. Bracing himself, Jean looked to his left, only to blanch.

A cloud of dense fog moved towards the direction Hugh, Artie and Butch were in. It was moving as if some force was pulling or pushing it or willing it to move at five miles per hour. It was horribly unnatural, but that wasn't the worst bit. Jean's lips slowly parted as he spotted a slender and undulating figure several stories high through the mist, its outline and the silhouettes of tendrils emerging from its back the only thing visible as it moved. It was picking up speed along with the fog, its long, spider-like legs taking such slow paces, yet they were so wide, it didn't matter.

Jean trusted his sixth sense. It was screaming something to him, loud and clear.

Whatever this thing was, his men didn't stand a chance.

Onscreen, something was happening. Sudden shouts emitted from the men, and Jean looked back to see something had emerged from a window of the apartment, coming towards the men on all fours. They immediately opened fire, but that did nothing to prevent it from coming closer as it landed on the ground. The cameras became shaky as they began to run back, but Artie was further ahead, spraying on the ground.

From what was seen before the men started running, the thing that emerged from the house was a tall, blackish demon-like creature with long, curved horns protruding upwards on its head. However, its body was misshapen by its noticeably distended middle.

"Boss, the fog is almost at them!" said Raphael.

Jean shook himself out of his stupor. "Men! Fall back!" he ordered. "NOW! There's something coming your way!"

" _I'm on it, I'm on it_!" said Artie, continuing to spray symbols contained within a circle on the ground.

" _It's coming!_ " Hugh shouted, facing the direction of the demon that was nearly upon them.

He unsheathed his sword, and just as it lunged, he stabbed it in the chest while Butch attacked its neck with a swing. It didn't cry out, but snarled, gnashing needle-like teeth from a gaping, bleeding mouth. The strikes did little but somehow managed to halt it.

Before it could overwhelm them, Artie quickly raised his free hand and made a circle in the air before pressing his palm into the center. This expelled a force that propelled the demon back by a few feet while also emitting a bright light. Disoriented, the demon shook its head, covering its eyes.

At the same time, seeing the demon in a more motionless position allowed them to take in the entirety of its details.

The supposed "demon" had digitigrade legs...hooved feet...a spiked, spaded tail...the _horns_...

"That thing's a devil!" Jean exclaimed in a practical sputter of disbelief and horror.

" _What in the name of...!_ "

From Hugh's view, he was looking up and saw the same inhumanly tall figure—at least three stories high—appear from out of the fog directly behind the apartment complex. The cameras fizzed and waned horribly, then died in seconds. Audio was still on through their static-filled intercoms, transmitting chaos.

" _ARTIE!_ " shouted Butch.

" _Get over here!_ " Artie called, and then all that was heard was a loud _CRACK_.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Jean demanded, moving away from the helicopter to face the direction of the district. "Artie? Butch? Hugh?!"

Suddenly, not ten feet from him, all three men appeared from the same symbol that Artie had been spraying on the ground. They immediately collapsed, unconscious.

Jean, Raphael and Lucas immediately ran over, only to hear Trevor's horrified, strangled gasp behind them.

"B-Boss...! Boss, that thing is coming back!" he shouted.

Jean looked up and over at the black, harvestman-like being approaching from the direction of the road. It was the same creature that had been at least four, _five_ miles into the district. It crawled towards them on several limbs with more tendrils twitching angrily behind its back. Its oval-shaped face was paler than its body and even from the distance, the gaping maw of black, razor-sharp teeth glistened in the nearby light of early morning.

A horrible, sickening chill of fear ran through Jean's body, but he raised his hands. He made a quick symbol in the air and incanted softly, causing a large white barrier to erect above them. It reached far, enough for them to take their fallen comrades and it even engulfed the helicopter. Fast as the approaching creature was, it seemed to take its time upon seeing this. Jean could _sense_ its intelligence. It was watching him. Observing him.

And it was intrigued.

Shivers ran down his spine. He glanced back to see Lucas moving Artie into the helicopter. Trevor had Hugh and Raphael had Butch and were doing the same. Raw panic was attempting to overwhelm Jean's mind, a sensation he hadn't felt in many years. This was unlike anything they had experienced before.

He froze momentarily as the creature moved to stand to its full towering height, and its featureless head tilted to the side before the barrier shattered without so much as a warning. The moment it did, while shaken, Jean quickly pressed his index, thumbs and small finger together before touching them multiple times in different positions, weaving magic at the center where his fingers created a triangle. He then grabbed the energy in his hands and held them out at his sides, holding large orbs of white light in his palms. Letting the energy linger in the air, he pumped his arms back, causing the lights to spark brightly.

Not letting the creature so much as consider a move, he tapped his fingers in the air, and the lights reacted, letting out beams of light to the specific spots on the creature's body. They were dodged when the creature's body swayed like a tree limb in the wind. Not a second later it emitted a loud, echoic hiss as the attacks returned to hit it from behind. It jolted forward, then raised its facsimile of a head, staring at him with unseen eyes.

In that moment, Jean felt all the magic he had cancel out. The orbs disappeared in a blink of an eye, taking their attacks with them, and he suddenly felt lethargic, weakened and sick. Throwing himself to the grass, he heaved before vomiting violently. From the sounds he heard behind him, he wasn't alone. It was excruciating, his mind swimming with incoherence. His vision blurred. He felt liquid pouring down his face from his eye and ears. He tasted blood in his mouth.

He was dying.

He knew what it felt like to die. Suddenly, it all came back to him, and his scar felt alight with fire as pain seared through him. Screaming, he blearily looked up at the creature that was just a few feet from him, and his vision warped, making the tree-like creature seem even more horrifying, even as it lacked any and all features—all but that gaping, toothy maw.

And fear.

Every inch of his body demanded for him to flee, to bow die and die, to curl up and wither away, to stop existing.

"JEAN!"

Choking on bloody vomit, Jean's eye began to roll back into his head. The voice was familiar, but it only registered to his conscious mind for a second. The world began to fade and fizzle. Sounds became garbled and watery. He could feel his mind eaten away by fear, causing him to drool. It was a fear unlike anything he ever felt in his existence. It was a demanding fear. He had to be afraid.

He had no _choice_ but to fear.

Abruptly, the ground shook like an earthquake around him. Slowly, his mind was repaired; it was as if someone was in his head, reattaching and sewing together his broken wires. Blinking blearily, he made out the form of a creature standing above him that shrieked lividly at the willowy one. The sound alone should have killed him from his close proximity...but it didn't.

Softly, he babbled a familiar name, only to collapse backwards onto the grass. He knew who this new creature was. Tears rolled down his face. Everything was numb and cold, treacherous.

Then, there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I believe this chapter can be greatly improved and leaves a lot to be desired. The pacing seems too fast, for one. As the tags inform, I am constantly doing revisions so this chapter might be even better in a few weeks. 
> 
> In any case, I hope you've enjoyed this preview of my story. 
> 
> I am in school right now, but I might be able to find a groove of an upload schedule if I indeed upload the other chapters. If anyone is still interested, please let me know! Thank you! :)


	5. Division

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Ridridge incident brings a greater divide within Jean and a new one amongst his men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Sorry about the accidental posting of the seventh chapter! This is the right chapter.

Jean felt consciousness before he opened his eye. It was as if the darkness behind his eyelid had a crack in it, showing the light of what he hoped was day. Bracing himself for reasons he didn't quite understand, he opened his eye, only to calm almost immediately. He laid upon a bed in the sickbay of the Cellar. Softly, he exhaled. It was good to be home, yet it was also...wrong, somehow. Something was off.

He turned his head to the left, then blinked. He jolted upright, his eye wide and fear spiking to his throat along with a strange, heart-clenching feeling of shameful relief.

Standing over Trevor's sickly body as he laid in a bed was Celezar, a hand on the man's forehead. Jean took in little more than this image before warring within himself. He should scream. He should alert someone. But his voice caught in his throat.

Literally. He couldn't speak, even if he wanted to. He grasped his throat, swallowing and blinking with confusion. Then he realized it had to be Celezar. Celezar was preventing him from speaking.

The relief he felt steadily faded to confused fear, but then he saw Trevor's deathly complexion become a healthy peach. Following this, the technician also began to breathe easier in the mask over his face. Lips parting, Jean stared from the supine form to Celezar.

What in the world...?

Moving away from Trevor's bed, Celezar looked at him, then glanced away. "Sorry. I just wanted to heal everyone."

Blinking, Jean stared a moment more. Then his eye glanced around the room. Artie, Butch, Hugh, Lucas, and Raphael were all lying in beds, their skins healthy shades and were breathing with ease. It wasn't hard for Jean to believe they didn't originally look like this...but why?

The sound of movement brought his attention back to Celezar, who was walking down the aisle. This further confused Jean, bringing a slew of questions to his mind. Why would Celezar walk towards the antechamber? Did the other men know he was there? That couldn't be...

Hell, why was Celezar there at all— _healing_ everyone, at that?

Abruptly, Jean's expression dropped as he recalled what happened. Just as his gaze began to glaze over, he felt his thoughts forcibly return to the present. He almost shuddered at the beginning tingles of fear in the back of his head. Blinking again, he looked at Celezar, who had turned to look at him with a frown on his face.

"No. Don't remember. It's best that way. Least of all to remember that entity." Celezar then seemed to realize what he was doing, his shoulders slumping as he turned away again.

"That was you, wasn't it?" Jean blurted before he could stop himself. The call of his name was faintly audible in his ears, and he remembered the mighty roar.

The tall form stopped, causing him to tense. Tentatively, Celezar glanced back at him. Jean closed his eye for a moment, trying to recall what happened again. Instead of all the events leading up to falling unconscious, he saw a spade-tailed, horned creature in his bleary mind's eye that stood at least twenty feet tall. At _least_. How he could even remember such details was a mystery to him.

Steadily, the memory seemed to slip from his grasp. The details remained. He gazed at Celezar, who continued to look back at him. "Why...?" He swallowed, a familiar feeling gripping at his heart. "Why did you...?"

Celezar merely stared at him, making him uncomfortable. Jean had to wonder. Why hadn't he called for help, yet..?

The double-doors to the antechamber suddenly opened, and his heart jumped to his throat in sudden panic as he looked at them. The moment he did, he saw Celezar disappear from view, which both calmed him and brought about the unwanted feeling of dejection. He brushed it away.

Verne was entering, his head lowered while looking at something on a clipboard. The doctor didn't seem to realize Jean was awake. He approached the closest occupied bed near him, which belonged to Butch.

He blinked. He squinted, lips parting in surprise. "How in the...?"

Jean opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and rapped his knuckles against the side of his bed.

Verne's head snapped up to look at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Jean!" He came swiftly to Jean's bedside, looking him over with a critical eye. "You were all in some sort of...deathly stasis just moments ago. How are you possibly...?" Shaking his head, he blinked a few times in confusion.

"I...don't know. I just woke up." Jean took a moment to digest his own words.

He just lied about the actions of an inhuman.

That was a dangerous first.

Clearing his throat, he leaned back against the pillow. "What happened? Last thing I remember is...Something appeared." He frowned, trying to find the words for his last vivid memory. Celezar wasn't letting him remember. Strangely, perhaps alarmingly, he didn't feel resentment or fear. Only relief.

Verne pursed his lips in understanding. He glanced back at the closest person to Jean's bed which belonged to Artie. "As it was told to me, Nicholae received a call here during your hunt yesterday from the helicopter. It was Celezar."

Jean stared intensely at him, listening with full attention.

The doctor shook his head. "When Nicholae's team arrived, you were all unconscious and Celezar himself was nowhere to be found."

Jean's gaze wandered as he struggled to understand. It was difficult _to_ understand. Celezar called for help on their behalf? Healed them all from what was likely the brink of death? What was he _doing..._?

A part of Jean already knew the answer. He wanted to believe that answer was the truth. But he couldn't...

Could he? Should he dare to?

The double doors opened again as Ulrich and another man with a scarred cheek entered the room. Immediately, their initially somber expressions changed to ones of shock.

 "Jean...? Jean!" Ulrich exclaimed, swiftly entering the room and approaching his older brother's bed. "You're...you're awake? How?" He looked at Verne as if for an answer.

Verne just slightly shrugged. Then he seemed to realize something as he raised a brow. "It would appear to me that Celezar healed you all," he said with surprising ease.

Both brothers looked at the doctor as if he had grown two heads for two completely different reasons. Ulrich looked gobsmacked as he realized the others were also healthy, whereas Jean was surprised and impressed Verne had figured it out so easily. Then again, what else could it have been?

Nodding towards his cousin, the other man in the room, Jean managed a minute, somewhat amused smile. "Kegan. How are you?"

The scarred man gave an exaggerated scoff, looking him over. "I should be asking you that."

As Jean conceded, Verne walked around to check his heart monitor.

A small smile formed on the doctor's face before falling rather abruptly. "Yes. Yes, it is so. Your heart is no longer failing. You are obviously of sound mind. Or so I hope."

Again, the brothers and their cousin gave the doctor an almost exasperated look. Jean slanted his eye. "I think I'm of sound mind."

"Most people who aren't think that."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, doc." To his brother and cousin, Jean asked, "What happened yesterday? I know you were dealing with the authorities."

Kegan frowned. "I see we're just going to ignore the fact that you were healed _again_ by an inhuman?"

"I don't see how there's anything to say about it. How am I supposed to know why?" Jean briefly closed his eye, irritated at where this was going. His thoughts were already antagonizing him. He didn't need this.

To Jean's relief, both Ulrich and Kegan easily relented. Ulrich's expression then dissolved into a harrowed look of gratitude mixed with sober disbelief. He looked away, a crease forming between his brows. "We saw everything. The...That creature, how your magic was nullified. We had the government quarantine the district. No one's going in or out until that monster is gone."

Jean watched as his younger brother raised his head, shame evident in his expression. Jean figured Ulrich had his group move out before he and his men went unconscious. At the look of pain in his brother's eyes, he pursed his lips in understanding, much as he wished he didn't understand. If he couldn't do anything against such a creature, Ulrich never would have had a chance.

Ulrich diverted his gaze again, turning so he was in the motion to walk away. "After we saw the footage, Nicholae contacted Holloway. A _devil_ , Jean. You came into contact with a devil..." His words broke off as he shook his head and pinched his nose bridge, clearly distressed by what he witnessed.

Observing him and Kegan, whose expression mirrored Ulrich's, Jean frowned with concern. "It was better for your group to have left instead of trying to take on that thing, Ulrich. I have nothing against your decision."

Lowering his hand, Ulrich glanced to the ceiling. "Mother said otherwise."

Jean opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of those words. How his mother could remain to be callous despite what had happened was yet one of the many things he and his brothers had to contend with. "Don't let her ignorance get to you," he finally stated. He brushed off the slight heat of uneasiness that moved through him at his words.

Ulrich quickly glanced at him but managed a nod after a moment.

Kegan tapped the footboard. "I'll let you be, then. I would tell the men about your...miraculous recovery...but I'll leave it to you." He gave a nod at his cousins and Verne before turning and walking down the aisle to leave.

Ulrich lingered for a moment. He sighed, the stress somewhat easing from his body. "This is the second time I've had to see you so badly injured in such a short time, Jean," he said softly. "Please take care of yourself."

Jean kept his gaze forward. "I try."

It looked as if Ulrich was going to say more, but he let it go. He nodded at Verne, then walked down the aisle and past the double-doors.

As soon as he was gone, Jean shut his eye with a deep, tired exhale. "I'm not staying on bedrest."

There was a small chuckle from Verne. "Yes, I imagine so. I'll only give you one thorough checkup before allowing you to leave."

"Fine."

"I'm afraid you have no say in the matter, Jean."

"Yes, sir."

Verne went into his office to procure a cart with two shelves carrying things for a general checkup. Said checkup consisted of what any doctor would check for: blood test, blood pressure, vision, etc. By the time Jean was about to leave to wash up in the bathroom, Butch and Raphael were also beginning to awaken. He let Verne take care of them before entering the washroom.

He took a change of clothes and his boots that were held out for him, per the usual, with him inside. He intended to use the moment to contemplate.

As the water beat down upon his body, he idly ran a hand over the scar on his chest. It was almost the same sinewy texture as his skin. He could also feel that his eye wasn't completely closed, anymore. He was still healing much too rapidly. Placing a hand on the tiled wall, he softly exhaled.

What sort of thrice-accursed inhuman creature was _that thing_? He couldn't remember it but could remember bits and pieces that gave him enough of a reason to wonder. Then, that devil.

Devils weren't real, anymore. They couldn't be. They were sealed away over two thousand years ago. Yet, what else was it that he saw? Only devils supposedly had that exact description. The hooved feet were a dead giveaway. He unintentionally shuddered.

Shakily, he looked between his wet hair to stare at the wall. What was going on in Clovure? What the hell was happening in Clovuria?

He spent some time in the shower, thinking about what had happened and what he saw after awakening. What was Celezar up to?

And why the hell was Jean letting what he did earlier go so easily?

After a while, he washed up, then exited the shower. He dressed into the fresh clothes before entering the sickbay again. To his surprise, all of the men were awake.

Artie wore an expression mirroring confused irritation. He didn't say anything to Jean but did give his cousin a nod.

Jean returned it. "Good to see everyone alive," he stated, walking further into the room.

Verne came back from Lucas' bedside with several vials of blood in a glass carrier? upon his cart. "Hm, yes. I wonder why..."

"Who's side are you on, Verne?" Lucas snapped, looking entirely miffed as he sat with his arms crossed.

Not even looking at him or fazed by the remark, Verne walked towards his office. "The side that keeps my patients alive."

"Wha...?" Lucas blinked, then huffed and looked away.

Watching after Verne while he disappeared into his office, Jean considered this. But only for a moment. "Does anyone remember anything?" he asked.

"No," Lucas muttered.

" _Nada_ ," said Raphael, who was staring at the ceiling.

"Sorry, Boss," Trevor sighed.

Butch crossed his arms. "I wish I did."

Artie only grumbled.

Hugh looked confused. "I don't think I want to."

Understanding perfectly, Jean nodded while walking down the aisle. "Take it easy, men. Meet me in the antechamber once Verne gives you all the okay."

"Sent," came the chorus behind him.

He exited the sickbay to hear an argument in the antechamber, or close enough to it. He tilted his head to the side as he left the short hall, but no one was there. His gaze went to the window to see the outside.

It was a late afternoon by the look of things, almost evening. It was spring, so the breeze was a bit cool. From where he stood, he could see the open land of the isle and a bit of water in the distance. He spotted his uncle Friedrich and a young woman dressed similarly to a hunter, both standing some distance from the outpost's entrance. Upon seeing her, he leaned in the doorway to listen to what was happening this time.

"For the umpteenth time, go back to the manor," said Friedrich, his voice tense and irritated.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "I'm one of the family's best alchemists. I can be useful if you give me a _chance!_ "

"Alchemist or no, this isn't the right place for you!"

"Are you housing an inhuman for interrogation?"

"No?" He sounded confused.

"Then it should be alright!"

He raised a hand to his face. "Please, Elaine. I only let you in to see your brother. Don't make me regret that."

Her eyes flickered to look at Jean, who gave a careless shrug. Narrowing her eyes to the point that definition was impossible to make out, she spun on her heels and turned away with a loud sound of outrage.

There was a horse nearby, and she climbed onto it. In a few seconds, she was galloping away, but not towards the manor. Instead, she was heading towards the main port at the southwest of the isle.

Jean's lips tightened. Elaine, his painfully audacious older cousin. All she wanted was to be an inhuman hunter. But women in their family simply didn't do such things. Shaking his head, he came to Friedrich's side. "Looks like she's going to the mainland, again."

His uncle sighed. "Yes, and I always wonder if I should have one of the servants follow her." He then seemed to realize who he was speaking to and spun to look at Jean. "Wha—?"

"I'm fine, Friedrich." Jean patted his shoulder. "Seems like Celezar healed everyone. Unfortunately," he added on.

His expression darkening, Friedrich narrowed his eyes. "Did Verne check you?"

"Is that even a question?" Jean lowered his hand and turned to walk back into the outpost. Boots thumped behind him as his uncle followed.

"This isn't normal, Jean."

"I know."

He stopped when his uncle placed a hand on his shoulder and turned around. Velvet blue eyes identical to his stared hard at him. At first, nothing was said, and he waited patiently for the older man to choose his words.

Friedrich removed his hand. "You should take some time off."

Scoffing, Jean didn't respond and walked away. Such words weren't in his vocabulary. Worse yet, it sounded to him that his uncle was trying to say he was currently unfit to lead. All the more reason to ignore him. He heard a huff of irritation but didn't bother. Irked and still confused from earlier, he didn't need his uncle's stern consternation tacked on to his emotions.

He entered his office. Dinner would be soon, and he wanted to check over the report before he ate. He only noticed the older man sitting at the desk when the brown eye looked up at him.

"Jean-Luc...!" Nicholae stood and swiftly moved around to approach his nephew. He didn't hesitate to give a hug, and Jean reciprocated it freely.

Before he could say something, Jean nodded. "I'm fine. I'm glad you're here, actually. I need to speak with you." He glanced to the bergères.

Nicholae clearly wanted to ask more questions, but he complied with sitting down. They sat beside each other, and Jean tilted forward in his seat.

"Celezar healed us." He stared forward. While he couldn't see his uncle's reaction, he imagined it was one of surprise.

There was a soft chuckle. "Why am I not surprised."

Or not. Jean's gaze went to the floor. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Indeed." Nicholae leaned forward, parroting Jean's pose. "It doesn't make a lick of sense...according to what we think of inhumans, that is."

Brows furrowing, Jean risked a quizzical glance up at his uncle.

Nicholae shrugged. "Celezar was one of us for six years. To our knowledge, he didn't have any ulterior motives, and we've all passed the tests checking for inhuman influence. So, then. Why did he save your lives?"

Jean softly huffed, but it was one of simple fatigue. There was a reason he liked talking to Nicholae instead of Artie. Unlike all members of his mother's family, Nicholae had a more experienced and unique view on the world. He simply knew things, things that would make every member of the Lowell family, including Jean, squirm uncomfortably or yell in outrage.

But Nicholae was a Redfield, his father's family. That made Nicholae...different.

Testing his limits, Jean heaved a heavy sigh while sitting upright. "He cares?" he asked with a bite of sarcasm.

Once more, Nicholae shrugged while glancing away. "Wouldn't exactly be anything new. He seemed to legitimately care greatly for you. For all of us. You two were like brothers."

Jean's jaw locked. He felt himself grow warm from self-consciousness. Trying to play it off for his own sake, he unhinged his jaw. "That means nothing. Inhumans have their ways to influence, to sway," he said, and he hated himself for it. He sounded like his mother, a terrifying thought. "Why would Celezar be an exception?"

All Nicholae did was stare at him. "You doubt it, though, don't you?" he asked softly.

"My own opinions don't matter against the truth."

"Do they?"

"If you're going to say something like that, how can you possibly continue to hunt?" Jean evenly argued.

Nicholae momentarily closed his eye, but when he opened it, he was looking away. His expression was a smooth, unfaltering mask. "See as much shit as I have and you manage to detach yourself from such things. This is simply a single case." He glanced back at his nephew. "If Celezar had done it only once, it would be one thing. Yet he did it for all seven of you, Jean, and twice for you alone. From all that he's done and managed to do, we have to consider how powerful he is, what he could have done but didn't. He has a spotless history with us. It gives me reason to pause."

Jean shook his head with disbelief while looking away. This wasn't what he needed to hear at the moment.

Holding his hands up, Nicholae relented. "But that's just my opinion. I'm merely telling you what I would consider if in your shoes."

Oh, Jean would _love_ to see what Nicholae would do if he was in Jean's shoes. He held back a strong scoff, opting to huff softly instead.

Nicholae rested back on the armrest and exhaled. "So, then. The district is under lockdown. It's a damn shame those bodies—or remains, rather—are going to have to rot, likely being eaten by Creator knows what. But we don't have a choice. I saw the footage obtained from the men's cameras. It's shaky and unreliable after the appearance of the second creature before going black, but I saw enough to know it's nothing we've ever encountered before, even with all my thirty years as a hunter..."

When his uncle suddenly went silent, Jean glanced at him to see he was staring blankly at the floor. Steadily, however, Jean noticed signs of horror on the older man's face. "Nicholae?"

Startling, Nicholae looked at him, slightly pale and his eye disoriented. Concerned, Jean placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Nicholae swallowed. "When I saw the footage...When _we_ saw the footage...we all had the same reaction as Artie, Hugh and Butch. Fear, Jean. It was...unnatural. Demanding."

His eye widening, Jean lowered his hand. He didn't know what to say in response but did solemnly nod with understanding.

Nicholae shifted in his chair. "Additionally...according to Ulrich, your magic didn't do anything to it. It was nullified, in fact. It is something far beyond any of our abilities. It may also be mated to the devil."

"What makes you say that?"

"In the footage, when the devil is climbing out of the apartment, its middle is visibly distended. I believe it's pregnant, which makes this attack ten times worse than it's become." Nicholae tapped the upholstery with his fingers as his expression darkened. "The second creature arrived almost immediately after Butch, Hugh and Artie attacked the devil. Since there wasn't another devil or other creature in the area, we can only assume the tall one is its mate. And we all know how dangerous mated pairs are."

Jean inclined his head in agreement. Even during normal hunts, hunters were leery of assumed or confirmed mated pairs. Infamous for their dire tenacity, the sire would give their life to protect their expectant or otherwise subservient mate. It wasn't common to find mated pairs, but what limited experience Jean had told him to be extremely wary.

If the devil was mated, horrendous as the thought was, to the tall creature...

He frowned at the thought of what sort of deranged offspring they would produce. From Celezar's reaction earlier, this new creature didn't seem to be of the Infernal variety. He called it an _entity_.

"That's why Holloway's getting involved," Jean said, his face carefully shifting to a neutral expression. "I'm so excited."

"It's necessary," Nicholae reminded. He cracked a small, understanding smile. "Try to get along with him."

Scoffing, Jean looked to the floor. He and the government inhuman hunter Caden Holloway hadn't seen each other in eight years, not since Caden departed from his group during a fall-out. Jean had hoped he wouldn't have to so much as consider the man again. "No promises."

Nicholae shifted again as he nodded. An exasperated expression then crossed his face. "On a lesser note, you can imagine your aunt Elise and your cousins wanted to come by and see Artie. Despite the norms, we let them."

Jean shrugged. He understood the circumstance. Women weren't normally allowed in the Cellar, either. "Saw some of it. How did it really go down?"

Nicholae smiled a bit. "Elaine was at it, again. She said this incident proves why she should learn how to fight. Said it's not too late...the usual spiel."

Shaking his head, Jean glanced back at the floor. "I don't think she should become a hunter. Not readily, anyway."

"Why not?"

"I'm fine with women becoming hunters. That's a given" Jean glanced up. "But women of this family just aren't cut out for it."

Nicholae was quiet for a moment. He then laced his fingers together. "That is likely because they were never given a chance to prove otherwise."

Brows slightly furrowing, Jean took this perceptive answer into consideration. He never once thought of it like that.

He was about to continue when a sudden commotion broke out in the antechamber. He and Nicholae stood at the same time, and Nicholae opened the door for them to enter the large space.

All of the men were in the room, but several of them seemed to be in the middle of an argument. Robin, the youngest of them, appeared to be at the center of it, shouting and pointing at Friedrich while being held back by Musa.

"...and _you_ of all people should be advocating for this!" he shouted.

Lucas stared at his younger brother in disbelief. "Are you serious? What the hell else are we supposed to do, remain on bedrest until this whole thing blows over?"

"Not fucking happening!" Hugh exclaimed in outrage. As he looked as if he was ready to strangle Robin, he was being held back by Gulliver.

Turning on his microphone, Jean shouted, "Enough!"

His voice rose over theirs, and they steadily quieted, albeit with grumbling. Hugh shrugged Gulliver off him, and the older man cast him a warning glance before turning to focus on Jean. Musa let go of Robin without being told and also looked at his leader.

Arms crossed, Jean's gaze swept over them. "What's all this about?"

Stepping forward, Robin didn't hesitate to explain. "I think something should be done about you who were healed by Celezar. What if he's done something to you?"

"Why should we if everyone's passed the tests?" Hugh immediately snapped. "The tests don't lie!"

"But this is Celezar, an unknown creature of an unknown calibre! We don't know what he's capable of!"

"You make good points," Jean acknowledged, turning the volume on his microphone to a normal setting. He stared hard at the younger man. "Don't like your attitude about it."

Robin went still, his eyes widening as he caught himself. He briefly glanced away while some of the other men cast him pointed looks.

Jean continued. "While on this topic, I truthfully don't know how you all have taken this situation with Celezar."

The room went pin-drop silent. Jean looked at each of his men, waiting for someone to talk. Their expressions told him enough, however. "Very well. You are disgruntled, confused, angry. We had an inhuman in our midst for six years."

Several nods were made as his men agreed with him. However, Friedrich had a sudden look of disdain in his eyes. "These things happen."

Raphael scoffed. "Do they really?" he asked in a surprisingly calm tone.

"The bonds hunters make aren't broken so easily," Jean said in support. He looked his uncle in the eye. "We laughed with him, cried with him, hunted with him... _for six years_."

"Yes. But these things _do_ happen."

"Not for six years," Nicholae added.

Upon seeing the look of anger directed at the older veteran, Jean shook his head. Tensions in the room, and amongst his men, were abnormally high. The last time it was like this was seven years ago...

He briefly closed his eye, lingering on that day, before looking at Robin. "What do you suppose we do, then?"

The younger man blinked. He clearly hadn't expected to be asked such a question. "Well...I'm...not sure about everything else...but maybe you seven should be monitored...Something like that."

Near him, his brother raised his hands in outrage, shaking his head while staring at the ceiling. "That's fucking absurd. What do you think's going to happen? We sprout wings and a tail?"

"Technically, taking things into consideration, you _could_ have something happen to you that is undetectable."

All eyes went to Verne, who stood against the wall near the sickbay. The doctor wasn't looking at them, his hand held underneath his chin in thought.

Calvin scoffed. "Not helping, Verne."

"I'm only considering the unknown."

"All the more reason you should keep your mouth shut," Lucas snapped with a glare.

"Whoa, whoa!" Trevor came between Verne and the younger man as Verne slowly looked up at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. To Lucas, Trevor said, "Let's not be vicious, here."

Robin rolled his eyes. "Listen, we're suddenly dealing with devils and gods knows what else. Can anyone see the logic?"

Once more, Jean nodded. "There's plenty of it." To them all, he said, "We truthfully don't know what we're up against. We barely know what's going on, in fact. If anyone thinks the seven of us should be monitored or should get regular checkups, I'm fine with that. In fact, I endorse it."

Hugh and Lucas huffed with deep exhales, but they didn't say anything.

A small silence overcame them, and Robin began to fidget. "Well...maybe not monitored..."

"Regular checkups are fine," said Verne, "as should be the general lookout for anything unusual. Do you agree, Jean?"

"Agreed." Jean returned his hard stare onto Robin and Lucas. They fidgeted underneath his gaze. "Mind yourselves, gentlemen," he enunciated.

Abashed, the twins' heads bobbed in understanding. "Sent, Boss," said Lucas.

"Good." Jean went to grab and don his coat, then began to walk towards the armory. "I'm going to the mainland."

"You just woke up," said Nicholae from behind him.

Jean waved a hand. "I need some fresh air."

He strapped himself down with his normal gear: Valk, Sig, Hilde, and of course Ringe. Someone approached him from behind.

"Jean, you haven't even eaten."

Briefly closing his eyes, Jean wanted to ignore Friedrich, but didn't. He turned around to look past his uncle in the doorway to see most of the men were still in the antechamber, talking amongst themselves. Some fleeting glances were given to him, ones of worry. Not _that_ worry, the type that suggested something was happening to him. It was a type of worry Jean couldn't quite make out just yet.

He wasn't going to stay around to figure it out.

To Friedrich, he said, "I'm not hungry."

The older man frowned. "Jean—"

"Friedrich..." Exhaling softly, Jean momentarily looked away. His gaze went to the large crest of the Lowell family—an emblazoned 'L' with a canine creature curled at its bottom with thorns—high on the wall between the side entrances to the armory. "This is...unlike anything any hunter has ever dealt with. I need some time alone," he admitted, returning his gaze to his uncle.

Slowly, Friedrich nodded in understanding.

The glimmer of wariness and concern was visible in the older man's eyes. Jean really couldn't blame him. They Lowells were raised to be wary of anything inhuman-related. Watching him for a moment, Jean then turned away and left through the back entrance. He passed the shooting range on his short trek to the horse stable at the left of the Cellar. As he walked, he softly huffed to himself while turning his microphone off.

He arrived at the stable that held a total of fifteen horses. There was wide, open grassland between the nearby forest and the outpost where they could roam.

As he approached, he spotted one of the servants glance up at him from where they were standing at the stable entrance before lowering their gaze with a bow. They appeared to be a middle-aged man wearing a stablehand's clothes. In the darkness of the late afternoon, his piercing, uncanny golden-yellow eyes almost shone, flashing at Jean.

For just a moment, Jean considered the older-looking man. Briefly, he was reminded of Celezar, which brought a thought into his mind he never considered before. What did Celezar think of the Lowells, who had inhuman servants while maintaining a legacy of killing inhumans? Now that he thought about it, what did the servants think of that...?

Such a strange thing to wonder. It never occurred to him before, not even during all of his previous thoughts of the servants over the years.

"Bring my horse." His words were met by another bow. He didn't have to bother with raising his voice.

"Right away, sir." The low, melodic voice was inhumanly beautiful. It was irritating.

The feel of the man's magical bond to Jean's blood tingled through his veins, becoming faint as the man moved away. Unintentionally, he shivered. Now the feeling of their bond bothered him even more as his thoughts once more returned to Celezar.

Instead of allowing the thoughts to overwhelm him while still on the isle, he told his mind he could wallow in them later. He watched as his horse Spider approached, led by the servant. He frowned at the realization that he hadn't a clue what the man's name was.

Why was this bothering him?

His frown deepening, he also decided to let the issue drop for the moment. Without acknowledgment, he took Spider's reins and briefly looked him over. His coat was a shining, dark brown, just as it should be. Humming his appreciation, Jean climbed upon him. He led Spider into a trot, and then a gallop, off towards the southwestern port. He needed to gather his thoughts. Alone, in a safe location.

Anywhere off Isle Veni was a safe location. With this thought in mind, he urged his horse to go faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Again, this chapter leaves a lot to be desired and can be greatly improved...*sigh* Hopefully another chapter will come...maybe Friday? I want to upload as often as possible, but I'm also revising the chapters before posting them and am getting antsy since I hate them so much. I know the story needs to be developed more...
> 
> Anyway, I decided I'll pretty much upload about ten chapters or so and we'll see what happens from there on?


	6. In Silence They Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on the mainland, Jean finds some solace...and terrors.

Living on an isle came with a few downsides. There were places one could go to get away from everything, such as the woods Jean liked to explore as a child, plenty of room to roam for exercise and contemplation, and familiar company was never too far away. But if one wanted new company, new sights, sounds, and experiences, travel by aircraft or watercraft was the only way to find them.

Jean rode Spider towards the main port some miles away from the Cellar. Once the calming smell of the ocean reached his nose, he steadily relaxed, leading his horse from a gallop into a trot. As he came closer, he diverted to a garage that was near another horse stable that only held one other which belonged to Elaine. Initially, he considered taking Spider to the mainland with him but thought better of it. He had a more suitable mode of transportation for his destination on the mainland.

Another stablehand was waiting for him. After approaching, he climbed off Spider and gave him a gentle pat of thanks. The reins were handed to the stablehand, and he walked inside the garage. There were several cars, all covered, but there was also a very small, slender vehicle. He took the cover off, revealing a marvelous silver and black cruiser bike with blue accents. Instead of riding it, he brought it over with him on the short walk to the piers. Upon seeing him, the deck foreman left his station to approach, taking off his hat in respect.

"Master Lowell. What is your destination?" he asked, moving around to lead the motorcycle after Jean departed to approach the docks. Jean's strides were long, with purpose. "The mainland. I'll take it from there."

"Very good, sir. Will you be staying long?"

"No. The  _Astrolabe_  will remain docked until I return."

"As you wish."

He looked ahead to where he could see the boats anchored. The foreman approached Jean's personal yacht, the  _Astrolabe_ , with Jean following. He ignored the conversation that began between the foreman and his yacht's helmsman, even though the thought from earlier about the family servants tried to creep into his mind.

He shook his head to clear it, striding forward to near and then board his boat.

The ride from Isle Veni to the Connecticut shoreline was pleasant. He was glad he decided to leave so abruptly. During any normal occasion, leaving to the mainland was fine, so long as enough men were left behind that could participate on a hunt. But the recent events were making that difficult. Despite this, his men had proved they could handle themselves if a hunt arose.

He  _needed_  this.

He stood on the deck, overlooking the water with his arms resting on the front rail and his eye closed. Listening to the sounds of the waves crashing, the sounds from the yacht and the distant calls from seagulls, he felt at peace for the first time since the incident over ten days ago, now.

His brows furrowed. Had eleven days truly passed since then? Considering he spent six of those days unconscious, he figured that was why it seemed so recent.

It was a peaceful trip. His mind didn't wander off into the same regurgitating, self-deprecating thoughts he had of late, and he didn't even think about what had happened before he left the isle...or about a certain inhuman.

The  _Astrolabe_  docked at a wharf some hour later. He took a moment to observe the many other sailboats docked to the pier and moved to where the helmsman lowered the gangplank. His bike was already standing beside it, and without breaking his stride, he led it down the ramp and onto the massive boardwalk.

He looked around, taking in the sights of fishing boats and boathouses lining the boardwalk's waterside. Several fishermen were returning from fishing for the day, their glances following him as he led his bike to land. He didn't pay their looks any mind, as they were at least visually familiar with him.

The wharf was located roughly half a mile from a large town, which was several miles more away from an even larger town. That larger town was where he set his sights. It was a few minutes' walk down the length of the wharf, but he enjoyed the smells of the ocean, the sounds of activity. The second his bike hit concrete, he moved to sit upon it and donned goggles that hung from the handlebars. Turning the key in the ignition, he revved his bike to life and took off, temporarily leaving his worries behind him.

It was dusk, as evident from the orange-blue tint in the sky. It was difficult to see without light, so he drove with his headlight on. In the distance, he could see the gentle glow of lights from the town serving as a beacon for him to navigate to along with the aid of the lightly paved road. He traveled on the right side of the road to pass wagons also returning to the town. Some softly honked at him, and he gave a wave in response.

Instead of entering the closer town, he took the path that diverted around it. There was some initial traffic nearer to the town, but it cleared up considerably once he was past its border.

The setting sun was a beautiful sight. One would think he noticed it more often since he lived on an isle with such open land, but the truth was he did not. He was usually working, on a hunt, training, or something else that kept him from appreciating life. He simply spent too much time fighting to protect it.

Homestead after homestead, smaller villages, and some forests later, he neared yet another soft glow of a town's lights. The moderately tall three-story buildings glowed with the aid of warm illumination. Once the town's sign became visible, he slowed considerably. He passed under the stone and wood arches, entering the town of Cadron.

The town was moderately occupied with pedestrians walking to the far left and right sides of large streets. He kept his gaze forward, staying to the left of the road. As it was after rush hours, the lights were dimmer and lamplighters were making rounds. The peaceful flickers of candlelight set a comforting atmosphere even as the sounds of activity bustled about at the height of the evening.

He passed through the steadily quieting town's main streets until he came to one leading to the town's cemetery. It was even wider than the normal streets, bare of people or any sort of sound save for the loud noise of his bike. Two paths diverged off at the far sides of the cemetery's entrance, and he took the one at the right. It brought him off the pavement and onto a dirt path surrounded by trees. His motorcycle's headlight led the way. He picked up in speed, the sound of rustling leaves brushing past.

Eventually, he came upon open grounds with a small sign indicating private land. Some distance past the sign stood a moderately-sized tall building that appeared similar to a barn. It had an entrance with closed double-doors but looked completely abandoned and unkempt. An old tree stood in the far distance behind it, whereas the surrounding area was bare of any significant life or other buildings. There was some land between it and the open entrance of a lighted gate, which he approached without hesitation.

Leaning against the wall of the gate was a man dressed in hunter garb wearing a wide-brimmed hat. He stared at Jean for a moment but didn't stop him from entering. After passing him, Jean climbed off his bike and walked it up to the building. He felt the eyes of the man on him but paid no mind while looking forward.

A small symbol seemed to be stamped beneath the building's doorknob. It looked simple and harmless enough, colored black with ram-like horns curled over a human fist made from runes. It could be mistaken for a syndicate or an obscure occultist symbol, perhaps, and it wasn't too far off from both. The door was barred, locked and in disrepair. Or so it seemed. It was a hunter staple. What no ordinary human could tell, on top of that, was how the entire place was warded. He removed his goggles before knocking on the door.

Almost too soon, a port on the left door opened. Even then, he couldn't see inside. "Name," a deep voice demanded.

"Jean-Luc Lowell."

"Proof." Another, larger port opened beneath the first one where what looked like a cup of water was offered through the slot on a tray. Beside the cup was what looked like a glowing yellow crystal.

He took the crystal first, showing the back of his left fist and hovering the crystal over it. The same symbol upon the window appeared in glistening silver on his skin by the crystal's light. There wasn't a response, but he wasn't expecting one. He lowered the crystal to drink the water in the cup. The cool liquid went down smoothly, which in turn soothed some vague concerns. He was still human, of course.

Licking his lips, he hummed, "Zamzam? How did you get your hands on it?"

The voice chuckled, "We have our ways." The tray retracted, the ports shut, and the doors opened, revealing a tall, muscular woman with long black hair in a ponytail and a scarred lower lip. "What happened to you?" she asked upon seeing his scar. She unlocked the grates. "I didn't even recognize your voice."

"Long story. Don't want to talk about it. What, the news didn't make it here?" He moved past her, bringing his bike inside, and handed her the cup. The area behind the door was full of men and women alike standing or sitting in a rather dark room that appeared similar to the inside of a warehouse-esque barn. There were horses within stables and several motorcycles. He knew there were even more somewhere else within the outpost. The hunters nodded at him, and he nodded back.

The woman took the cup, then glanced around behind him before locking the gate and closing the door. "Oh, it did. I just want your story," she said, moving to give the cup to another man. Her hand was kept out, and the cup was replaced with another cup of water that was already waiting. "Ioan's here, taking a break, of course."

"Thanks, Jesca." He left his bike to one of the men, who nodded at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Get a move on. I'll hear your story, eventually."

He scoffed but didn't respond as he descended a long, dimly lit staircase at the back of the room. Stepping from the last stair, he looked around with a slanted eye through the warm-colored lights above him. He softly chuckled with a shake of his head, recalling the first time he arrived at this particular hunter outpost.

He stood atop a large ledge, looking down the funnel-like center of the area. At the very center was a large marketplace-of-sorts where he could see items on display even from his distance. Along the stair-like walls were rooms, alcoves and passageways leading into other underground locations. Everywhere he looked, people were walking, conversing, and selling. It was an eye-opener and one of the larger outposts in the south of the country.

Nearer to the marketplace was a sign indicative of a bar. Initially thinking otherwise, he found himself wondering, why not. He walked down the left staircase and then alongside the wall, looking out for any familiar faces. In truth, he didn't visit the mainland's outpost as often as he should have. The northeast of Clovure's coast was considered part of his group's territory, and while they took part on hunts in the nearby areas frequently enough, interactions with the outpost were regretfully rare.

As if in tune with his thoughts, as he neared the bar, he caught sight of a television mounted on the upper left of the bar displaying news of the Ridridge District's "deadly" quarantine. Several eyes of other hunters were locked onto the news, and he slipped onto an empty bar stool to listen.

_"...was just yesterday when authorities and first-responders lost contact with the district. The Clovuren Disease Control and Prevention Office came onto the scene when several authorities lost their lives upon entering, eventually calling the district a quarantine zone. Neighboring districts and concerned persons worry what may have caused the deaths and of what happened to friends, family and loved ones."_

He shook his head, deciding to block it out. It only reminded him of what happened before he arrived at the outpost.

The barman, who was also watching the television, finally turned from it to flash a friendly smile upon seeing him. "What can I do for yo—Jean?"

There was much noise in the area, so Jean once more quietly thanked Trevor for the modified earpiece. A small smile formed on his face, and he turned it on as he turned to shake the man's hand. "Hey, Ioan. It's been a while."

"Damn right, it has!" The older man placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward. "Gods, Jean. Let me guess. A certain inhuman did that to your face?"

Jean huffed. "You're the second person to ask such a question, and I'd rather not talk about it."

Ioan scoffed, fixing a non-alcoholic drink. "Jean, with an injury like that, people are going to want the details. I reckon you're probably blind in that eye."

Jean placed his chin on his palm, resting his elbow on the counter. Though he didn't say anything about it, or even complain about it, he was still getting accustomed to his new handicap. He suffered in silence but had hopes. "I am."

The short answer seemed to be enough of a hint for Ioan to let it go. He slid Jean a mug of sarsaparilla. "So, then. What brings you to the ol' Plight?"

"Just trying to get away for a little while. Clear my head, maybe." Jean took a sip of his drink, keeping his head lowered.

"Do that."

Jean gave an inquisitive glance up at his friend, who cracked a small smile.

"We didn't think you'd make it after the news spread around the outpost. Any more news on that Celezar bastard?"

Frowning and lowering his gaze to the counter, Jean took another, larger mouthful of the soft drink. "No."

There was a small bout of silence. Ioan huffed. "Well, no one's been quite the same since the increase of attacks. Many have died. I suppose you've heard the news of what happened to the Kwons?"

Jean deeply exhaled. The Kwons were another old family of hunters, even older than the Lowells. He recalled reading a report of the incident. "Yes. Yeong-gi is dead. Who is the leader, now, then?"

"His son, Bon-hwa."

Jean almost sputtered into his drink. "That kid?"

He was given a look. "As if you weren't a kid when  _you_  became leader." Ioan took up and began to clean a stein. "In fact, he's nineteen, now, so he's had three years' experience."

This was news to Jean. "He started at sixteen?"

"Mm hm."

"Huh." Jean quieted himself by taking another drink. Most hunters became leader at age twenty, but depending on the family or family's tradition, sometimes younger. He, for instance, started at age seventeen. But that wasn't quite what was on his mind; several thoughts began floating through his head at the mention of other hunters.

Caden was going to grill him for not staying in contact with other groups.

He softly scoffed at the reminder.

There was another momentary silence between him and his friend, Ioan interacting with other patrons and Jean lost in his thoughts.

When Ioan went back to idly gazing about the outpost, Jean finally exhaled softly, staring at his drink. "We've...had no luck finding Celezar. I wouldn't be surprised if he went back to Inferno—or wherever he's fucking from. Then, we dealt with Ridridge." A slight shiver went down his neck at the reminder of something he couldn't remember. "Askuwheteau is also dead..."

"Heard about that. May he find peace. They've been talking about Ridridge all day. What's the real story?"

Jean shook his head. "There's something else out there. Something worse than anything we've ever dealt with before. Worse than a Demon Noble, even."

"Gods...Does Holloway know?"

"Not yet." Taking an angry sip of his drink, Jean glanced away. "Fucking asshole's going to want every detail of information...Not that there's much."

There was another brief silence, then Ioan pointed to the taps. "Are you  _sure_  you don't want a drink? You sound like you could use one."

Jean barely reconsidered. "I'll pass. Kind of have to. I won't be here long; just wanted a change of scenery."

"Understood."

Conversation continued for a while longer. Jean had a refill, and then spent the remainder of his time people-watching while sipping leisurely on his drink. The hustle and bustle of activity was welcomed in comparison to the slow drone that was the norm back home. It wasn't that he didn't find that comforting and familiar; he was merely troubled by the budding divide in his group.

For six years, he knew Celezar. He remembered when they met at the Memorraw, an even larger hunter outpost, and recalled being a bit intimidated by the man. He was broad-shouldered and taller than Jean at six-foot-eight, flashing a sly grin, as if he knew something Jean didn't. More than anything, Jean remembered how mesmerized he was by his large, olive-green eyes, gemlike and keen.

It had been a bad time for the Lowell Hunters. They lost some of their men and were looking to refill their ranks with good, competent men. From the excursion to the Memorraw, they met Lucas, Robin—youngsters, but regardless skilled—and Celezar. Jean and Celezar became fast friends, and Celezar's incredible talent with dual-wielding swords and his agility aided them greatly.

Scoffing softly, Jean took another drink. An inhuman would have such skills.

But, to make things worse for the better, now said inhuman was going ahead and healing them, aiding them, saving them. Such an impossibly perplexing matter was bound to cause a divide between his already confused men.

Jean finally turned to place his empty mug on the countertop. "Thanks, Ioan," he said, flipping a token from a pocket and into Ioan's waiting hand.

"Don't mention it. You need to come back more often." Ioan gave him a small, almost sad smile.

"Eventually." Jean made a sure nod before walking away.

There was another rail just a few paces from the bar preventing anyone from falling off to the craggy platforms below. He stood there for a moment, looking around, wondering if he should head back home.

Then he noticed.

Standing across from him on the other side of the open center space stood a black figure behind the rail. It appeared to be a tall, slim bald man with pallid skin. He wore a simple long-sleeved button up, tie, slacks, and dress shoes—all black. His obviously non-hunter clothing made him stand out, and he was staring directly at Jean.

Slanting his eye, Jean slowly turned his gaze away. But only for a moment. He moved away from the rail and began to walk to his right, his gaze returning to look across the way.

The man was still staring at him.

The more Jean stared back, the more the man's features seemed to distort. He lacked a nose and a mouth, beady black eyes impossibly shrewd. No one seemed to notice the man, not even the people nearest to him. Just as Jean was beginning to think of the inevitable, his heart skipped a beat when someone passed right through the man.

An inhuman was amongst them.

His eye widened. Not just any inhuman; his sixth sense blared this much to him. This thing was not an ordinary creature. He couldn't remember it, he just couldn't remember it. The hold Celezar had on his memories was truly great. Regardless, there was something itchingly, horribly familiar about this...thing.

Narrowing his eye, he quickly darted away from the bar and navigated through the outpost before nearing the far southernmost wall. He didn't dare glance back to see if it was still watching him before he slipped down a hall that would take him to the outpost's garage. Normally, if one arrived by vehicle, they would enter through the garage, but since he brought one as small as a motorcycle, he was able to enter from the front.

Up some stairs he went, opposite to a ramp, and entered the garage. The windows were tinted, the floor was lightly paved and there were stone pillars, indicating he was no longer inside an underground area made of stonework but within a building. This building served as the cover for the outpost on the outskirts of the town which stood as an ordinary but private garage. He found his bike easily amongst the others just as a sudden shiver went down his spine, effectively assuring him the creature was indeed following him.

Again, he didn't bother to look for it, but spotted something black out of the corner of his eye, anyway. Straddling his bike, he revved it to life and navigated through the rows of vehicles towards the exit, which was guarded by a handful of armed men. The overhead and lower doors opened as he neared it, revealing an empty street he gladly sped onto.

Where was he going? Not a clue. Did it matter? It did not.

The dark streets were dimly lit and jarringly empty, but that was supposed to be the norm. Instead, it came across as menacing. As there were no traffic police out at night, drivers were to obey the rules of the road at their own discretion. But he was speeding, pushing nearly forty miles per hour through the streets. He still felt the sensation of being watched, that something was near. This was unusually terrifying to him.

He traveled down the main street and left the town from the western side. Stretches of land were between him and the next town with several homesteads in-between. He couldn't lead the inhuman to them. Frowning, he turned his bike into the direction of the nearest woods off the road.

It didn't take long before he noticed the light of his motorcycle wasn't reaching as far as it should have. The darkness around him steadily became stifling, unnatural, yet the sky was still visible.

He slowed his bike until he came to a stop at the edge of the woods. There was no longer a reason to keep going or even to attempt to return to the wharf if that was the case. Taking a deep breath, he briefly closed his eye before looking around. His heartbeat was too loud, but damn him if he didn't admit he was afraid.

Then the chill went down his back, the flush of fear from realization that something was behind him.

Slowly, he forced himself to move off his bike. In the end, it might not do him any good, but he unholstered Ringe and spun around, pointing it forward.

Several feet from him, standing out with its pale complexion in the moonlight, was the same man-like figure. The near-white hands were steepled together, lowered at the abdomen. Loudly, he exhaled, trying to calm his nerves. What was the appropriate move to make in such a situation? He innately knew he was outmatched. Ringe wouldn't be able to harm the creature, but maybe magic could?

"Jean-Luc...Lowell, is it?"

He startled. The voice covered the distance easily, as if the creature was standing directly before him, with a humored, almost playful tone. It did not bode well.

"Lowell. I recall such a family of inhuman hunters. Ah, how you have fallen. Once, you were worthy of the word 'respectful'. Now, not at all. You've fallen so pathetically low, become so insignificant."

"Yes, yes, that's all very informative."

Jean spun around, only for the tip of his gun to be lowered easily by a single brown finger. He stared into yellow eyes with black pupils that bore into him from a man several inches taller than him, but that wasn't the most jarring feature.

The man appeared  _heavily_  pregnant. There was no other way to describe the way he looked. Furthermore, he only wore simple black pants, not even shoes, from what Jean could make out with the aid of the moonlight. Lastly, a spaded brown tail swung lazily behind the man's back.

Paling, Jean took a step back. A devil in human form.

 _The_  devil from Ridridge. The distended stomach gave it away. Which would make the pale figure...

"Domien."

He went rigid, his sixth sense telling him of the closer presence of the creature behind him.

"Get behind me."

The yellow-eyed devil scowled. "It's only a human." His voice was unusual with a strange accent and strong inflection that was foreign to Jean.

The second after this left the devil's mouth, the breath left Jean's lungs as he was lifted into arms and the world spun. When everything stopped moving, panicked, he fought against strong arms and looked up to see a familiar face.

He went still with shock. "Celezar!"

Celezar held Jean against him, crouched low and situated some distance in the woods from where the two other creatures stood. "What do you want, Hobboilen?" he snapped at the pale creature.

The beady black eyes narrowed. Tendrils emerged from the back of the one named Hobboilen, and it pulled the creature Domien behind it, causing Jean to blanch again. "I simply wish to see the one you are going through so much trouble with up close."

Celezar hissed, a literal loud, deep sound emitting from his throat. "You had enough of an eyeful of him yesterday, as I recall."

At this, Jean tensed up. He began to remember what it was he saw the night before. As he looked at the pale creature, the image overlapped. He suddenly cried out and startled horribly in Celezar's grasp upon seeing the towering, terrorizing black figure looming further ahead of them. His face was suddenly turned against Celezar and his body was shifted so he was somewhat behind him.

"Hobboilen!" Celezar growled.

"Why not kill them both?" said the devil with a derisive snort.

There was a low, amused croon. It sent shivers of fear through Jean's body. "Because, my pet, that would cause unnecessary violence. Have some respect for the child; he dared to face us for the sake of merely a possible future mate," said Hobboilen. "The human has not even decided, yet."

Decided? This caught Jean's attention, and he peeked from around Celezar's body to look upon the creatures. Decided what?

As if it could see Jean looking at it, which it surely could, Hobboilen's head tilted to the side. "Jean-Luc Lowell," it said, ominously enunciating Jean's name. "Hear this: your...partner...is young, so painfully juvenile. Yet, he is aware of what it means to defy an entity such as myself. For your sake, he has risked death. Do remember this while you make your decision to become...inhuman." It crooned the last word with a smile in its voice.

Heat from terror rushed through Jean's body at these words.

"You're going to let them  _go_?" Domien demanded. Without even waiting for a response, he made a scoff of disgust. "I will never understand you hallows," he said, turning a yellow eye onto Hobboilen.

"Domien."

Suddenly, the tall creature's tendrils curled around Domien's legs, stroking him suggestively. One in particular curled around his gravid middle, causing an audible grunt to escape him. But Hobboilen didn't so much as look at him.

"Do remember who your mate is," it warned.

"Fuck you," Domien spat with a scathing sneer.

Only then did Hobboilen glance at him, and then back at Celezar and Jean. "We will see each other again, youngling, Jean-Luc. In the meantime, pardon me. I must...educate my young, volatile mate."

Domien shivered, and Jean had a feeling "educating" was both a terrifying and exciting activity between them. " _Hmph_. Fine, old man. So long as you don't fuck me in  _that_  form," Domien said, yet again with disgust as he looked upon his mate's humanoid form.

Hobboilen's head slightly tilted to the side, and then it softly chuckled. That was when Jean noticed the fog that grew around them. It was everywhere, so thick he was sure he would be able to feel it if it touched him. It slowly engulfed the two further ahead until there was nothing to see. In moments, it dissipated, taking the two creatures with it.

The world appeared to come back to life, the sounds of crickets chirping and calls echoing from distant animals that Jean hadn't even noticed were absent. The gloom that had surrounded him and Celezar eased. The abnormal darkness had lifted.


	7. Sins of Unshakable Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean finds himself alone with Celezar for the first time since the Augusus incident, heralding unshakable truths.

"Let me go."

The order was readily acknowledged as Jean was released. Without hesitation, he stiffly rose from Celezar's lap and jumped away, turning to face him. He held Ringe in a tight grasp and pointed it at him. Celezar merely stared back. Taking in his appearance, Jean realized Celezar was paler, maybe even sickly, in comparison to the last time he saw him in the Cellar's infirmary.

"Are you going to shoot me again?" Celezar's voice was soft, melancholy.

"I can't be in love with an inhuman." The words came out automatically, as if Jean was reading from a manual. "It's wrong. Immoral. Disgusting."

Celezar's eyes slightly slanted, but pain clouded his features. "Is that how you feel, or are you repeating the only thing you know?"

His upper lip twitching, Jean didn't answer. The fact that he couldn't answer made him all the more outraged at himself.

Instead, he asked a question. "Why did you attack me if you were only going to heal me? If it was an attempt to confuse me, well congratulations," he said with a scowl, "it worked."

"No, Jean. I fought alongside you for six years.  _Loved_  you for six years." Celezar scanned Jean's face, his hands clenching. "And so easily, you turned on me. How was that not going to hurt me, anger me? What I did...It was a knee-jerk reaction, it wasn't like me at all. I...I'm sorry." He closed his eyes.

Jean scoffed, holding the gun tighter. "Don't you fucking dare lie to me. Not anymore." Despite his words, he wanted to believe. Somewhere within him, he did believe. 

But he couldn't. Couldn't Celezar piece together that simple truth?

Celezar slowly looked up. "Do you really want to shoot me, Jean?"

Before Jean's eye, Celezar went from being crouched on the ground to standing right in front of him, far too close for comfort. But he didn't get a chance to react. Long fingers curled around the gun to place against a freckled forehead while still in his grasp.

"Pull it, then," Celezar goaded, his expression resigned and solemn. "Kill me, or at least try, like you did in Augusus."

Seconds ticked by, and Jean internally warred against himself. Moonlight shone off the gun's surface, strong enough that it was mildly blinding. A sickening feeling rose within him at the thought of killing this creature that, despite everything, looked like the man he loved.

He was pathetic.

As if Celezar knew his thoughts, the gun was knocked out of his hand. It spun off to the side, just a shining object on the grass. The heat of fear flushed through Jean's body and he jumped back several feet, even deeper into the woods. "Go into your true form," he demanded. It was the only way he could fight against him.

Celezar's gaze was emotionless, staring into him without mercy. "What are you afraid of?"

"I am an inhuman hunter! You are my target!" Jean took a single step forward in rage. A familiar fear was beginning to grow within him, but he swallowed it down. "I'm conversing with an inhuman! Love of Creation, I fucking  _laid_  with an inhuman, con...consumed the  _essence_  of an inhuman! That's abhorrent. I am tainted. How can I be anything but angry, disgusted? I'm tainted, no matter what anyone says!"

The calm expression darkened. "I didn't taint anyone. The tests prove it."

With another scoff, Jean scowled at him. "We can't believe the tests anymore!"

"The tests never lied!" Celezar glanced away. "I only manipulated reality a bit so it would say I was clear."

Jean's lips slowly parted in shock and slight astonishment. What was Celezar if he could manipulate reality? "Manipulated...reality." After some seconds, he shook himself out of his stupor. "What sort of fucking inhuman  _are_  you?"

There wasn't an answer. Celezar's shoulders slumped, as if in defeat. His expression was so pained. "It doesn't matter..." Looking back at Jean, he made a withered smile. "I saved your life. Doesn't that mean anything, say something, to you?"

Ready with a comeback, Jean's mouth opened. But nothing came out. Instead, he shakily inhaled, staring at nothing as he recalled the day several years ago when Celezar saved his life, nearly dying in the process. It left four horrible scars on Celezar's back. That event led to their strong friendship which led to their romance.

The thumping of his heart pulsed through his body, physically hurting him. He exhaled, his body beginning to quaver, and shut his eye as another memory flashed into his mind, one of blood and horror.

In moments, he was overwhelmed by emotions, the mental imagery. His body shook with fear, and he stared off. So quickly, he was coming undone as the very thing he didn't so much as let enter his consciousness after Augusus bombarded his thoughts.

"I can't," he whispered, his voice so low no human would hear him clearly. "I...I can't."

He kept seeing it. The blood.

How could a human have so much blood inside them...?

"Why?"

Jean suddenly moved away, turning his back to Celezar. Celezar, an _inhuman_. Never would he have done so in any other situation. But that was it. He trusted Celezar too much. That simple, honest truth; it overwhelmed him, pained him.

But he kept hearing it, the screams of bloody murder that were so near, even now.

His voice shaky, body rigid, he responded, "They will...kill me." He looked away, anywhere, as his left eye stung and moisture gathered in his right. "They'll kill me. My family, my men. They will hunt me down and kill me, if they knew, and you won't....you won't care because you're inhuman."

He was embraced from behind. "No, Jean."

He panicked and shoved Celezar away—or tried to. The inhuman's grasp was too strong. Fear constricted his throat and he began to fight in Celezar's hold. "Get off me!"

"No."

The painfully even voice frightened him further. He tried to shove, to elbow Celezar's chest, to kick Celezar's legs, his muscles straining with all their might. But Celezar was an immovable rock. "You fucking—! You wear his face!" He tried to grab and shove Celezar's head away. "I never loved an inhuman! I loved  _him!_ "

"I  _AM_ him!"

Immediately, Jean went silent and still. Even then, his body shook with adrenaline, fear and anger. Tears fell unbidden down his cheek. His left eye stung painfully, more than it ever did before. The words echoed in his mind. It was as if a light switch went on.

That, too, was true.

Even before the revelation of his inhumanity, Celezar _was_ inhuman.

Jean shut his eye. Self-disgust still boiled within him, all the more because...

He took in every detail of the strong arms around his body, holding him close. He had memorized them, how the veins showed clearly underneath the tawny, freckled skin. He missed this feeling. He inhaled the subtleties of Celezar's smell, how it seemed like a strong, earthy-herbal essence that was so wonderfully unusual. It was a comforting smell. He missed this smell.

He missed it all so much.

Gently, Celezar murmured, "I won't let that happen to you, Jean-Luc."

Despite how he felt, Jean slowly shook his head, slanted his eye open. Teardrops fell down his chin.

"Please..." Celezar's grasp slightly tightened, but it was a gentle hold. "Please, trust me as you once did. I was inhuman then, too."

These words shattered what little was left of Jean's resolve. His vision blurred from the gathering of more tears that immediately fell down his face.

The truth was staggering.

But the harrowing image replayed in his mind. Briefly, his eye shut, and a sob nearly escaped him.

He couldn't...shouldn't.

"Please." Celezar's voice was a whisper.

Jean hyperventilated, his hands clenching tightly into fists. His body trembled, but it was too hard to fight against.

Too unfair.

Wordlessly, he turned into the strong grasp and tightly embraced his friend, his partner, as if he was his anchor to the world. His heartbeat pounded hard, staccato, and he softly wept.

And he waited.

The presence that enveloped him seemed to become warmer, all-encompassing.

But nothing happened.

Deeply, he exhaled, his tense body calming considerably. He suddenly realized he never felt so safe before, like no one or thing could possibly hurt him. Not with Celezar near, even with the images and sounds resounding in his mind.

Completely relaxing, his body almost went limp as his eye fluttered closed from exhaustion. The sound of several heartbeats thumped evenly in his ear from within the warm chest. The arms never let him go.

Damn him to Hell. He wanted this.

He wanted Celezar.

~::~

The chirps of crickets echoed in Jean's ears. Every rare moment or two, there was the call of a distant owl within the deeper woods. Save for the rise and fall of his body to Celezar's breathing, he remained still with his eye closed. He laid partially atop Celezar as they rested in the woods, hugged to the warm chest by an arm around his, and his head rested underneath Celezar's chin. His mind simmered, steadily cooling from the boil that was his indecisiveness and anger, fear, the overwhelming emotions.

Softly, he sighed to himself. He was not yet at peace, and he knew Celezar was aware of this. But what could he do? What should he do? This was an unfamiliar situation for him and part of him didn't like it. All he felt he could do for the moment was let things run their course.

"What's on your mind, love?"

Despite himself, his lips quirked at the familiarity and the endearment. "I'm...just wondering what's supposed to happen, now."

"Anything you wanted."

His eye opened. It was best not to think too deeply on what that insinuated. He raised up a bit to look Celezar in the eye. "What are you?"

Looking back at him, Celezar was expressionless. He didn't answer immediately, reaching up with his free hand to gently, slowly trail a finger over Jean's scar, touch his eyepatch. His expression turned to one of pain. "I am a hybrid comprised of hallow, mahre...and devil."

The second Jean's eye widened, Celezar let go of him and his expression deteriorated to one of shame. But Jean didn't move away, though he did tense up.

Devil. He had intercourse...with a devil.

His mind sputtered.

He  _loved_  a devil.

For several anxious moments, he merely stared down at the hybrid. Celezar glanced away momentarily, the look of shame worsening on his face.

Exhaling with mental exhaustion, Jean finally all but dropped onto Celezar's chest with a resigned groan. That, and from shock. "I've already done this much...What's the point of getting upset, now?"

Celezar shifted. "I'm...sorry."

Jean softly huffed. "You can't...help what you are..." he muttered. His own words shocked him, even if it was true. Deciding not to think about what he said, he uneasily cleared his throat. "What is a mahre? A type of demon?"

Celezar softly laughed. "No, though I know why you make that assumption. Mahres are a sort of ghostlike creature that are dream-eaters, nightmare-makers. They feed off emotions, like some hallows, and are a sister species to them. Hallows are...akin to nymphs, I suppose. Earth-bound. Close to nature but wonderfully diverse. It's what the Ridridge entity is primarily made of."

"That long-legged one."

"Mm hm. It's a supreme example of a union between two gods, if you will."

Jean balked. "Gods?"

"It's an entity, a hallow-mahre, similarly to my own breeding, but of a different calibre. Its sire is none other than the Mother of Phantasms, Queen of Mahres, Noctmære, who mated with the Father of the Children of the Night, King of Hallows, Samhain."

Slowly, Jean raised up to look Celezar in the eye. "First, do they really need so many titles?"

"They have more." Laughing softly, Celezar touched Jean's scarred chin.

Humming, Jean leaned into the touch. "Second...Samhain? Really?"

"A word in one language can be something else in another. Samhain means on thing in the language of hallows, another in Gaelic. Regardless, our Samhain does have much to do with aspects of the holiday." Celezar's smile steadily dropped. "Samhain and Noctmære are incarnations of their worlds. Gods, in the language of some. Monstrosities, in the language of others. Supreme beings, in the language of most. To be created from the incarnations of such beings...what would that make the entity?"

"Impossibly powerful," Jean murmured, steadily coming to understand the gravitas of the situation. He shivered at the realization he came into contact with such a being...and lived. "And the devil?"

Celezar scowled, lowering his hand. "Dthanthomien, or Domien, is...a sort of bastard child of one of the nine rulers of Inferno. Belphegor, the 5th Sphere Ruler, is his sire. I care less about who or what his maternal parent is, because truthfully, that's enough to be wary. He is also my grandcousin. But, if it was just Domien, defeating him would be too simple. Not only am I a more powerful breed than he is, but his power is even more juvenile than mine. He's only a few hundred years old. But paired with his mate...I don't stand a chance."

Leery, Jean asked, "Who said anything about defeating them?"

"He and his mate are the cause of the rise in Infernal attacks. The Entity is letting him do whatever he wants, and because of Domien's birthright, hellions are attracted to both his actions and his presence alone. Death will follow him wherever he goes." Celezar looked into the sky. "Unfortunately, we can't just sit back and let them do that, eh?"

Even warier, Jean shook his head. " No human has ever fought against a devil and come back alive, let alone against such an entity like..." Trailing off, he exhaled and looked forward.

All of this information would be extremely helpful in the long run. He felt almost guilty, that he was cajoling Celezar into giving up what were otherwise secrets to humankind.

On the other hand, he was also glad to be talking casually with Celezar. It was familiar, almost ordinary. He was perfectly at ease in his presence now that he wasn't fighting against it.

It almost scared him.

"Well, you're wrong about that."

He moved up as Celezar sat upright to scoot back and rest against a tree.

"Humans of magical blood such as yours have. Many times. Truthfully, it has been many centuries since that last happened, but...it's not impossible."

"I suppose...we humans were stronger back then?"

"Hate to admit it, but yes. I've witnessed the might of humanity several times over in my lifetime."

"How long is that?" In his human guise, Celezar claimed to be thirty-six years old. But that was obviously false.

Smirking, Celezar looked to the sky again. "I am over fifteen thousand years old."

Jean blinked at nothing as his mind rebooted.

So, not only was Celezar a descendant of a devil, but he was also an ancient creature.

Jean slowly took this into consideration. What did all of this mean, that a creature so old had...fallen in love with him? Eyeing Celezar, he softly hummed. "You look good."

This time a heartier laugh escaped the hybrid, and he pulled Jean towards him despite soft protests. With Jean in his arms, he inhaled his hair. "I'm still really young, you know. Like a teenager, really."

Smiling at the attention despite himself, Jean sighed, "Celezar. I am thirty-one. You mean to tell me I'm with a teenager?" There was a mix of seriousness and humor in his hoarse voice along with a withered expression.

"In my species' years...yeah. But I'm also literally my age, love." The hybrid may have said that, but his voice was saturated with a sly, mischievous inflection. He then laughed, "If anyone, I should be the one concerned. You're only thirty-one!"

This laundered in Jean's mind. He raised his head to look over his companion, then shoved him, causing the hybrid to laugh again. "Is that why you're so insistent on calling me 'boy'?"

Celezar grinned as he looked off. "Maaaybe..."

Jean shook his head. "You're ridiculous."

Scoffing, Celezar nudged him. "Don't act like you don't like the attention, Jeanie-boy," he teased, almost purring. "You've always liked your pet name."

Jeanie-boy. A boyish endearment. It sounded like "Johnny-boy" with the true pronunciation of Jean's name. Contrary to what Celezar said, Jean initially disliked it. His name wasn't Johnny, a name he disliked even more. But the way the name, the endearment, rolled off Celezar's silken tongue always did things to his head. Clouded it. Made him forget how much he hated the sound of that name.

Celezar always made fun of him in that charming sort of teasing way. That loving sort of way.

He shivered. This was dangerous. So horribly dangerous. Abhorrent.

And yet...

He briefly closed his eyes, relenting to his vices. At least for now.

Because how could something so bad seem so...normal?

He forgot what they were talking about, and Celezar was waiting for him to continue. Yet when nothing was said and they merely stared at one another, Jean's expression eased into a small but genuine smile.

His lips parted, and green eyes watched his mouth. "I missed you." The eyes looked up into his, and he nodded, breaking contact to glance away. "I missed us," he whispered, as if someone could hear him. Maybe someone could.

"All's forgiven, love."

A small black tendril emerged from the ground and brought Ringe over to him. He stared at it for a moment, then took the gun and quickly placed it back in its holster, as if afraid he would suddenly shoot Celezar again.

He softly emitted a resigned exhale.

Then, from out of nowhere, a thought came to mind. It was a terrifying thought, but damn him if he wasn't curious. "Can I...see your true form?"

"No."

He blinked in surprise at the simple, ready answer and turned to look back. Celezar stared forward with a blank, listless expression. "No? Why not?"

"You've never been in the presence of a devil's true form, or a hallow's, so no." Before an argument could be made, the hybrid closed his eyes and said, "For one, I'm more hallow than I am anything else, and hallows are creatures that exist from many earthy things...but we emit the need to be feared. Devils naturally emit such an aura, as well. There are some creatures that need to be feared by others. Both hallows and devils are amongst them. And I am both."

"Then, can I see a pseudo-form of some sort?"

"Why does this matter..."

"I'm in my natural form, aren't I?" Jean raised a brow at his own challenge.

Celezar paused before looking at him. He then avoided eye contact. "You're cute, love."

Without prompt, a slight ripping sound emitted from his body before several black tendrils sprouted from his back. He closed his eyes for a moment, cracking his neck, and stood up.

Standing as well, Jean mentally braced himself for the worst. It really couldn't be that bad.

Right...?

A second after the thought, without warning, Celezar's long legs morphed until they became digitigrade, but strangely, his clothes morphed as well. Following this, his feet were instead sharp and talon-like, maybe even akin to a reptile's, with black claws. A long tail, interestingly similar to the tendrils coming from his back, swayed behind him with a large spade shape at its end, and his skin turned a dark brownish-black color that went alight with what could only be described as yellow designs. They scattered along every inch of his body, including his face, though the markings were more distinct there.

Jean had to strain his neck to look up at him. He was growing to be nearly as tall as the tallest trees within the woods, spiking twenty feet, and in the center of his chest was a glowing, jagged yellow protrusion that pulsed. Four clawed hands from four arms with black nails lowered, as did his body, causing Jean to press back against a tree further behind him.

Soon, he looked the hybrid in the eye, meeting the large, olive green orbs that lacked any distinction. Celezar also seemed to have glowing yellow freckles, but they were comparatively larger than a human's and were only around his eyes. Upon his forehead were black horns that curled backwards on his head. Most interestingly, he had no mouth or nose to speak of.

Taking this all in, Jean was scarcely aware he was hyperventilating. In his mind, he felt the overwhelming need to cower in fear. He was beginning to feel faint, and he slumped down the tree before snapping back to consciousness. Something was telling him this wasn't even a quarter of the fear he  _should_  be feeling.

Yet, he was also coherent enough to notice the particular body language Celezar was exhibiting. It was passive, docile, his tail and tendrils swaying very gently, and his body moved delicately, trying not to make any sudden movements. Not that it helped.

" _I'm not going to hurt you, Jean._ "

The voice was familiar, but it was not spoken. It echoed about him, yet he was sure it was only within his mind. This startled and frightened him further; hearing the voice of an inhuman in one's mind was dangerous. It meant possible manipulation, possible influence.

His breathing rapid, his heart pounding painfully in his chest, Jean continued to stare with parted lips. He watched the large head tilt to the side, and then tensed when a tendril reached over to move gently over his heart. He grimaced a bit, but his heart stopped hurting. Likewise, whatever fear that once overwhelmed him was held back, as if something in his head physically repelled the desire to be afraid. Letting out a shaky breath of relief, he relaxed by a margin, but then watched cautiously as the tendril moved away.

Nothing happened for several long seconds, and then a minute. The creature before him remained calm and observant, and he continued to stare right back.

" _I won't hurt you._ "

The voice in his mind spoke at an even softer volume, and the touch of sadness resonated through him. He swallowed, then slowly moved off the tree, taking small steps forward. He reached out, cautious and still consciously frightened but tentatively curious. His shaking hand touched the rough, exoskeleton-like skin. Nothing happened. With trembling fingers, he skimmed over the freckle-like markings on a coarse face. Celezar did have freckles in his human form.

This familiar feature brought a small smile to his face, and a crease from sadness formed between his brows. "Celezar," he murmured while a short laugh escaped him. He gazed into the hybrid's eyes. "You're...terrifying. Magnificent..."

A tear appeared where a mouth would be on Celezar's face. Jean took his hand back, watching as the tear ripped open by just a bit, creating gaps along the hybrid's face. It was uncanny and looked painful, yet no blood or other liquids oozed from the holes. From the one at the front of what Jean supposed was the beginning of Celezar's mouth, a sharply tapered black tongue that reminded Jean of a worm slithered out.

It flicked at the air before reaching to gently lick Jean's cheek, and he let it, though his body tensed and shuddered from its slick texture and unnatural warmth. His breath was shaky, and he briefly shut his eye. One couldn't say he wasn't trying.

To calm himself, he considered what he witnessed, earlier: Celezar protecting him, risking his life before the Entity. Yes...Celezar did always have his back...

He looked into the green orbs as the tongue retracted. "You're still Celezar," he murmured to himself. There wasn't a response, but he wasn't asking for one. He closed his eye and rested his head against his partner. Exhaling deeply, he calmed himself. For several moments, he didn't move, acclimating himself to the hybrid's presence. "Thank you, for the times you've protected and saved me and the men."

The tongue flickered out to lick his cheek again. Celezar crooned, a low sound that made Jean twitch. The black muscle retracted, and the rips in the smooth, dark face sealed up, becoming featureless once more, save for the large eyes.

Jean briefly glanced away and his expression slightly dropped. "What does it mean, Celezar, to...become your mate?"

Celezar pulled back in surprise, his head rising to stare down at Jean, who was suddenly confused. " _You're actually—That's—_ " A deep breath escaped him though Jean couldn't figure where from. A separate pair of eyelids that were vertically slanted pulled over Celezar's eyes as he "blinked", and then he looked away.

The lack of an immediate response was worrying. There was only one thing that came to Jean's mind that could cause such a reaction. It stayed at the forefront of his thoughts, and he held onto it as the most possible truth to brace himself with. It was easy to consider, looking at Celezar's form.

Finally, the hybrid turned to look at him. There was sadness in his gaze somehow, as was a mix of resignation.

It was true, then.

" _It means to give up your humanity._ " Celezar sounded painfully disheartened, as if sorry he was even saying such a thing. " _There's no way around it. That's...just the way my biology works_."

A short silence lingered between them as Jean laundered this over. Pursing his lips, he glanced off.

Celezar's words came back to him. Nothing would happen to him. Despite everything, in spite of everything, he did trust Celezar with his life, even now. Aside from what he was told to believe, raised to believe, what was left of his rational mind told him he had no reason to stop trusting him.

Dare he do it...? He was likely already damned to Inferno.

Something told him even if that happened, Celezar would be there, right in Hell with him.

It brought a miniscule, solemn smile to his face.

What was wrong with him...?

Exhaling softly, he beckoned the hybrid to lower his head again, and tentatively, it did. Closing his eye, he rested his head and hands against the smoother surface where Celezar's tongue had emerged, quiet and contemplative.

Mere seconds passed, but it felt like minutes. When Jean finally opened his eye, he looked firmly into the worried green orbs. With a small smile, he whispered the unshakable truth: "I trust you."

Again, Celezar blinked. His eyes then slightly slanted, and a low, pleased croon emitted from him.

"I do. But Celezar," Jean reminded softly, "I'm not..."

" _I know, Jean. Take whatever and however long a time you need to think about...anything._ " Celezar gently rubbed his head against Jean's, closing his eyes. " _During that time, and after that time, I will protect you. I protect what's mine_."

The corner of Jean's mouth twitched. "Yours?"

" _Yes. You are_ mine _. Mate or not, lover or not. You are._ "

Deciding not to argue, Jean nodded, even though Celezar couldn't see it. He looked over at where his motorcycle was slightly visible at the edge of the woods. "I should...be getting back home."

Immediately, Celezar opened his eyes. There was sadness, a yearning, in the green depths. Celezar wanted him to stay.

Before Jean could open his mouth, Celezar asked, " _Can I come with you?_ "

Jean frowned. "How in the world could you?"

The moment after he spoke, Celezar's form seemed to disappear into a haze of black smog. Startled, Jean stepped back, staring at empty air. He looked around with alarm, his eye darting left and right.

"Celezar?" he called, his voice failing to carry very far.

To his shock, a bark responded. Something was near his feet, startling him further. But then there was another bark that came from the strange moving thing. Brows furrowing, he felt down and touched...hair. Long hair.

The moment he moved down into a crouch, moonlight reflected off green eyes in front of him.

He blinked, then gave a small laugh. But his smile faded almost immediately with sudden realization. He reached and pulled the large dog into his arms. It was surprisingly lightweight for its size, appearing as a long-haired breed of some kind. He just knew a tail was wagging.

"Well, then," he murmured. His lips pursed. "Things are going to be...a bit odd from now on..."

The response to that was a long tongue licking his face before the dog barked again.

"Very... _very_  odd," he muttered with more than a touch of concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I'm ambivalent about this chapter...I tried to take into consideration the fact that Celezar is someone Jean loved and trusted dearly for _six years_. That is supposed to have a great influence on his ability to believe and continue loving Celezar even now. Hopefully it is believable...


	8. Step Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean admits he cannot forsake Celezar and is informed of a gathering of hunters.

It was easy to act as if what had happened in the woods was only a dream as Jean rode back to the wharf with a dog in his lap. As though he was in a stupor, he barely blinked behind his goggles, just enough of his brain functioning normally so as to not crash into something and maneuver correctly. The rest of his mind was in a sort of post-elation, pre-panic stasis that wasn't going to go away within the next few hours. The fully-functioning part of his mind knew exactly why he was feeling this way.

Despite everything, part of him was ecstatic. Celezar was going to be—and, by the hybrid's own words, would stay—in his life again. There was little he wanted more than that.

But then there was the budding internal terror. He was now involved with an inhuman, and not just any sort. Devils were fairytales. No one believed in them anymore and, at best, they were legends, creatures that once existed. Once. Long ago, too long for any human to remember. Worse yet, with the way things were prior to the discovery of Celezar's inhumanity and their own desires, there was the overwhelming possibility he and Celezar would be far more than "involved" again. Why else would he have asked the question of becoming the hybrid's mate? Mere curiosity...or secret desire?

Perhaps, even, the initial thought wouldn't bother him as much if it wasn't for the catch: He was now one of the very things he had killed in the past: humans who associated with inhumans. What would happen if his involvement with Celezar was discovered? What would happen to him?

" _Nothing_."

He almost swerved, nearly hitting a rock off the side of the road but rightened himself quickly enough. He took a moment to glare down at the animal in his lap. "Don't do that, please."

The dog glanced up at him, green eyes twinkling with mischief. " _How else can I talk to you in this form?_ "

He readjusted in the seat. "No...It's the reading my mind part. I would appreciate it if you didn't." He glanced down again in time to see the dog's long ears droop back.

" _Ah...I see. Sorry..._ "

Somewhat frowning, he looked forward again and passed the tree and shrub line marking the entrance to the beach. As the boardwalk was almost entirely barren, save for a few handful of people here and there, he slowed considerably to ride onto the wood. Nearing the _Astrolabe_ , he rode up to the gangplank before turning the bike off.

The moment he did, the dog moved off his lap and looked at the water, its back to him. Observing it by the light of the lamp posts, he went still in thought. The dog's breed was easy to figure at first glance. Its tail and ears were very long and feathered, its black, tan and white coat also feathered. To Jean, it would be an adolescent purebred Saluki, if not for how its coat was slightly longer at more than just its ears and tail.

After a few seconds, he realized he wasn't calling the dog by its name. Or sex. If it was either? He knew inhumans could be sexless. From what little he knew, devils were likely sexless. He glanced between the dog's legs to see a penis. Regardless..."What are you?" he asked, guessing his questions would be answered.

" _I am completely male in this current form. As for my breed, I'm a Saluki._ "

Nodding a bit, Jean stood from his bike and brought it onto the gangplank. His helmsman was already ready for him, standing on the deck of the yacht. He was given a bow, and he paused to look upon the man.

Only recently did he start to consider the family servants again after many years, what they thought, what their names were. Strange things to think, even stupid, to a degree. But now that he had overcome his thoughts about Celezar...

His jaw locked. He was going to get himself killed.

After a few seconds' consideration, he gave the man a curt nod before relinquishing his bike. Not a moment after, he felt awkward, as he never so much as casually acknowledged a servant before. It wasn't that he _wanted_ to feel awkward; he simply did.

He retreated below the deck, deciding to ignore what he did and opened the door to one of two cabins at the left of a small hall and turned on the light. It was sparsely decorated and had only a single small bed and several empty shelves, save for what seemed to be amenities. He sat heavily on the bed, looking up to see the dark-colored dog standing in the threshold.

" _I'm not coming with you_."

He frowned. "I thought that was what you wanted?"

" _Yes, but not this way. I have other plans_." The dog began to turn away.

A sudden and unusual spike of fear rose within him at these words. He reached for it. "Wait!"

It stopped turning to glance back at him.

Lowering his hand, he fought for words, but they failed him. He quite frankly didn't know what to say. What _should_ he say? While he internally debated, the dog stood patiently in the doorway.

After a minute, he sighed heavily. "Will I see you again?"

The dog's head turned to the side in that animal-like way. It then entered the room and looked up at him from between his legs. " _I can stay until you arrive at the isle_."

Not trusting himself to respond, Jean nodded with a small smile. He reached down to run his fingers through the black hair, trying to think of simpler things. "Are you sexless? In your true form, I mean."

" _If by that you mean am I male or female, then I am a hermaphrodite._ " Seeming to enjoy the petting, the dog stayed close.

"Ah..." Digesting this, Jean looked forward. "Well...you need a name."

There was a strange sound that was awfully similar to amusement made in his mind.

His eye narrowed. "I can't just keep calling you 'the dog' in my thoughts, now, can I?"

" _I was kind of hoping you were calling me by my human name in this form_."

He looked forward again to prevent himself from rolling his eye. "Yes, but I can't do that around other—wait." He took the dog by its cheeks to look it in the eye. "You have another name?"

He could swear the dog was smiling. " _That's not exactly uncommon. As a hunter, you should know that._ "

"I...Yes, but I never considered..." He leaned forward. "What is it?"

Silence stretched on between them after his question. Continuing to stare at the dog, he waited patiently for an answer. Thinking about it, he wondered.

Infernals and certain ethereal creatures in particular could be guarded about their true names. In Jean's mind, if Celezar was made of both an Infernal and a ghost-like creature, giving up his true name could be a sign of deep trust.

A part of Jean thought there was no reason not to know his true name, considering how close they were. At the very least, because of how close they used to be. The other part figured he was better off not knowing. He lowered his gaze after a moment, letting go of the dog to pet its head. "Never mind. I understand if you don't want to."

Silence prevailed, though the olive orbs stared back at him without a shred of expression in their depths.

He stirred, feeling awkward yet again, and looked away. Exhaling softly, he leaned back and laid upon the bed. He stared at the ceiling, retreating from wondering about the name to think about another one. "Basker. That's your name, in this form." When there wasn't an answer, he continued, "My family had a dog, once. I don't remember much about it, but I love dogs, in truth. Seeing you now makes me wonder why we never had a dog again. Having one could be beneficial."

No answer.

Closing his eye, he made a soft sound, as if to ignore what he said. He was prattling.

There was a shifting sound akin to material resistance, then a sigh. "You know my name."

He kept his eye shut. "Do I?"

"My real name is a sort of portmanteau of my human name."

Brows furrowing, he pondered. Celezar Yell. There weren't many if any names that could come from that, but considering Celezar wasn't human, he assumed the opposite. "Celezar Yell, hm..."

Another stretch of silence.

"Celezarell?"

"Close."

A strange feeling went through his body at the thought. It was something oddly akin to elation.

"That...sounds like a nice name, actually. I'll have to remember it."

He softly chuckled, then went back to thinking. "Celzarell?" When there was no response, he tried again. "Celez...aryel?"

"Very close. Say it quickly."

"Celezar Yell...Celezaryell?" His eye popped open and he quickly sat upright when the bed dipped at his feet. Celezar in his human form looked down at him with slightly glowing eyes, a look of adoration hidden between his long auburn locks. Jean clenched his jaw at the familiar expression. It was...arousing.

As if aware of this, Celezar leaned over him, placing his hands on the sides of his body. "You essentially said it." He leaned closer, so close their lips almost touched. " _Zelezh'arryel_."

The name flowed from Celezar's mouth as if it was a blessing, his eyes flashing and the lights slightly dimming for only a few seconds. Lips parting, Jean softly murmured, "Zelezh'arryel..."

With a sharp, stuttering inhale, Celezar's eyes rolled closed, and he slightly recoiled while he trembled. "Third time's a charm, love," he exhaled with a moan.

Eyeing him, Jean's lips spread into a captivated smile. Slanting his eye, he playfully hummed, not unaware of the slight tingles of energy that could be sensed in the air. He parted his lips again, but let the name hang off his tongue for a moment, watching Celezar sway from side to side as if in a trance.

Was this what it was like to know an inhuman's true name?

"Zelezh'arryel."

A mouth captured his, hot and demanding, the second the name left his mouth. Celezar's warm body pushed him down in the bed, and his hands immediately took hold of the hybrid's head, fingers digging into the dark locks. A long, worm-like tongue slipped past his lips, causing him to shiver at the unusual sensation, but he didn't immediately break the kiss. Only when a calloused hand crept underneath his shirt did he gasp and move away, exhaling deeply for air.

A mischievous smile beamed at him. "Not sorry, love," Celezar chuckled, his eyes so full of life and excitement.

The smile was contagious, so Jean returned it, once more feeling utterly content as he had in the woods. "Didn't tell you to stop."

The long fingers caressed him, causing him to slightly arch. "I didn't."

Breathing deeply through his nose, his eye slanted with abated, growing desire. "I'm kissing a dog."

Celezar grinned. "Ouch." He lowered to kiss Jean again, humming with pleasure. He then moved away, scanning Jean's face. "Not yet, love."

Jean's face scrunched. "Ugh." He didn't even want to think about what that meant. His smile widened at the deep laughter that emitted from his partner, bringing back the feeling of elation tenfold. He missed moments like this. It was so right, so normal.

How was this so wrong...?

Steadily, Celezar's laughter broke off as he stared at the ceiling. "Ah...sorry."

Blinking, Jean didn't immediately understand. He then waved a hand. "Don't worry, the servants won't say anything." When Celezar looked back at him, he was surprised to see a touch of sadness in the hybrid's eyes. He took a moment to stare in awe. They were so expressive, those eyes. He remembered when he first fell in love with those eyes. "What's wrong?"

Some seconds passed before Celezar slightly shook his head. His smile became somber, but he kissed Jean once more. It was slow but passionate, igniting a flame within Jean that had been doused for days for the second time. He pulled Celezar closer until he felt the near full weight of the hybrid on him.

He didn't think about what awaited him on the isle. He didn't think about his men or his mother. There was only Celezar. There was only ever Celezar. Zelezh'arryel.

"'Zarryel," he murmured as they gently parted, bringing a loving smile to Celezar's face. Words tumbled in Jean's mind, but he didn't know how to say them. Just when he began to attempt to speak them, his thoughts trailed off at his partner's sudden blank expression.

As they stared at one another in the silence of the small cabin, the world seemed to halt. Celezar placed one hand beside Jean's head and the other on his cheek. He caressed the scarred skin, somehow appearing older than the form he took.

Steadily, Celezar's expression changed into one of deep sorrow as his fingers trailed down the large scar. "Words will never be enough to...explain how sorry I am for attacking you, Jean," he whispered.

Jean remained still.

Exhaling softly, the hybrid continued, "I know you're scared. But you don't have to be, not anymore. I've your back, love. As I always have."

Swallowing, Jean continued to stare. At these words, he reached and gently let his fingers crawl up Celezar's back from underneath his shirt. He didn't break eye contact, even when he felt familiar, unusually smooth skin. Trailing his fingers up, he felt that the scars were diagonal and consisted of four jagged lines. Only then, once he reached where they ended nearer to Celezar's shoulder, did his eye begin to water.

He remembered the day too clearly, so painfully clear. Celezar almost died for him, protecting him as a human shield. Not just once, but several times over the course of their relationship as friends and lovers had Celezar protected him. He had his back.

There was nothing more to say, nothing else to do, but smile. He held all those six years of loving and trust in his eye, bringing a knowing grin to his partner's face. They then rested against one another, their eyes closing, as they waited to return to Isle Veni.

It was long past dusk by the time the boat stopped. Jean laid with his limbs entwined with Celezar's, who seemed to be asleep atop him. He inhaled the hybrid's hair, which smelled earthier than the rest of him, like the earth after a rainfall. It was a comforting smell. He didn't want to move. In spite of this, seconds after the thought entered his head, Celezar stirred.

"Gotta go, love..." he murmured sleepily.

Jean held him closer but didn't speak. His eye briefly closed, his body rising and falling from a deep breath.

Celezar also sighed. "I'm not going anywhere. I just won't be visible."

"For how long?"

"Until your next hunt." Celezar lifted his head from Jean's chest to look him in the eye. A small smile spread on his lips.

Jean knew what he was saying without even having to open his mouth: _Trust me_.

Slowly, he let Celezar go.

The hybrid sat upright, then stood. He looked towards the door as Jean sat up. "Like I said, I have plans. I think you're going to like it. I hope."

Grumbling softly, Jean remained silent, standing and walking to the door. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he turned around into a kiss. An arm snaked around his waist, bringing him close to a warm body, while Celezar parted his lips with his tongue.

He completely relaxed. "I hope so, too," he murmured against Celezar's lips.

Celezar chuckled softly, sending a shiver down Jean's neck. "I aim to please, Jeanie-boy."

Jean scanned him. "You're sinful, you know that?"

"Mm, that's my devil side." Slowly, the strong arm let him go.

He exhaled again, giving his partner one last look. A reassuring smile was given to him. He then turned back around, leaving the cabin to return to the deck.

He neared the helmsman, who stood again with his bike ready for departing. He took the handlebars but paused once again. The servant's eyes were lowered, something they were all "trained" but moreso ordered to do. Trained. That was a word his mother would use.

There was no point in acting otherwise as, being part-inhuman, the servant would know what happened in the cabin. He thought about it for a moment, then Jean deeply inhaled before speaking. "What is your name?"

"Halle, sir."

Jean glanced at the deck. It was a strange feeling to finally know the name of someone who had served him his whole life. He recognized Halle; he was one of the many servants who had tended to him when he was very young. What the man had done before becoming his helmsman, he could not remember. Or maybe he never knew. With Celezar in his life as it was now, he could change this. The truth was, he was always a bit curious about the mysterious beings that lived underneath his home.

He nodded. "Thank you, Halle."

It was brief, but he thought he saw a small, surprised smile form on the man's face. The glowing eyes slightly looked away in thought. Then, the man smiled fully before bowing.

That was the most expression Jean had ever seen on a servant's face. It made him feel unusual, but not in a particularly bad way. He glanced back to make sure he was completely alone before bringing his motorcycle off the boat and down the pier.

~::~

Several hours later in the midmorning, Jean stood at the outdoor shooting range with Nicholae. Some time had passed since the last time he practiced shooting. While he did do so when he had the chance to in the basement shooting range, he truthfully didn't do it as often as he should have. His eye wasn't getting any better, so there was no real excuse not to work on retraining his sight.

He lowered Ringe, glaring at the target several yards away. It took the form of a simple faux demon set up by servants at the ready. Jean could find the irony in that but decided not to think about it. Instead, he focused on the fact that while his aiming was admittedly better than when he first went blind, his aim was off by several inches.

Nicholae patted his shoulder. "You've improved."

"It's not good enough," Jean growled, reloading his gun.

His uncle sighed patiently. "Perhaps you've not thought about it, but Jean, you haven't been awake for long since the incident. Not even a week has passed yet, and you were attacked again just the day before yesterday."

Jean moved slower as he considered this.

"For the short time you've been conscious, as usual, you surpass expectations. You are much too hard on yourself," Nicholae continued.

His lips tightening, Jean didn't respond. He knew his uncle could have continued further, but the sound of his phone ringing in his office gave him good reason to depart from the conversation. Briskly, he left the range and entered his office, reaching for the phone.

"Jean-Luc," he said, holding the receiver to his ear as he sat down in his chair.

" _Jean?_ "

He froze at the familiar voice, but quickly recovered. So long as it was over the phone, he could at least act professional. "Caden. It's been a while."

There was a startled sound made on the other end. " _I heard what happened. I barely recognize your voice._ "

It was only when Caden was involved that Jean almost wished it wasn't mandatory for all inhuman hunters to know of another hunter leader's death or a hunter group's emergency. Undoubtedly, Artie, Friedrich or Nicholae contacted the Dox, which stood as the central hunter headquarters within Clovure, when he was attacked by Celezar. For certain, one of them likewise contacted the Dox after the encounter with Hobboilen and Domien.

"Trevor made a modified earpiece for me to use," he said casually. "My voice is too low otherwise, but it's fine. Doesn't hurt anymore."

" _Good to hear_." The sincerity in the other man's voice was apparent, but he went right to business. " _Listen, Jean. I'm calling for a mandatory meeting throughout Clovure's Hunter Underground to talk about what's happening around the continent. It's in three days at the Memorraw, six-thirty? sharp. Leaders and their seconds only. That way, everyone gets a room to themselves._"

A blond brow rose. "How generous," Jean dryly murmured.

Somehow, Caden heard him. " _It wasn't my idea._ "

"Of course."

Deep but soft laughter crackled over the phone. " _Remember, its_ mandatory."

"Understood."

" _I've plenty of calls to make for the day, so you take care until I see you again, Jean._ "

"You, too, Caden." An inaudible sigh escaped Jean as he tossed the receiver onto the phone base. It was almost uncanny how they managed to talk to each other so easily while keeping a nagging sort of tension between them. He could only hope seeing the man in person wouldn't make the strain even more apparent. He stood from his chair and left the office.

He returned to the range, where Nicholae stood fiddling with his own pistol. "Nicholae, I received word from Holloway," he said, coming to his uncle's side.

"Oh?" The older man lowered his gun into its holster. "What's going on?"

Jean exhaled, leaning against a range column. "There's a meeting at the Memorraw in three days. Mandatory. I was thinking of arriving sooner, but I'm not sure if that's the wisest choice to make."

"Why not?"

"With all that's been going on lately, I don't like the idea of leaving you all alone that long. That would end up being around five days, at least. Far too long."

Turning to face him, Nicholae gave a small, understanding smile. "As I said. You're too hard on yourself. Every hunter needs some vacation time, now and then. When was the last time you gave yourself time to rest after a long year's work?"

Avoiding eye contact, Jean made a scowl. "The idea of taking time off seems..."

"Normal?" Nicholae slightly frowned, but it was almost sorrowful.

An irritated huff emitted from Jean. He knew where this was going unless he stopped it. "Nicholae—"

"You almost died. Twice. No one would fault you if you wanted some time off."

"Are you serious? I've already spent enough time on bedrest. Further more, there's a devil and Creator knows what on the loose and you're saying that?" Despite his words, Jean's demeanor was anything but scathing. It was almost weary.

"You told the men to 'take it easy', didn't you?" Nicholae countered.

Jean frowned. "Yes—"

"Whereas you went back onto your feet the second you were allowed to." Nicholae grasped his nephew's shoulder. "Being a leader means nothing if you run yourself into the ground, you know this. Even your father took breaks when he felt it necessary."

All of Jean's will to further the conversation died at the mention of his father. There was no way to argue against those words; Jean had vivid memories of interactions with his father that would have been impossible if he hadn't taken the occasional time off. Wasn't that what second and third and fourth-in-commands were for? Jean knew his men could handle themselves.

If he left with one of them on the trip to the Memorraw, that meant a total of twelve men would stay to go on hunts. Dividing twelve into two groups, per the norm, wouldn't be difficult. At least six men went on a hunt at all times, if including Verne, who normally stayed behind.

He wanted to say quite a bit more, but as he looked at his uncle, the cool brown eye didn't waver. Glancing away, he exhaled heavily. "It's risky. You know I don't like taking risks. I know you mean well, Nicholae, but I feel cannot, especially now of all times."

To his relief, Nicholae backed off easily. He nodded, patting his nephew's shoulder. "Perhaps after this Infernal problem, then?"

Jean made a face but relented. "Fine." He turned around to leave. "Maybe there'll be another hunt before then."

As he began to approach the staircase to downstairs, an abnormally loud ringing emerged from the direction of the outpost's main phone. Said phone was located near the bar and was colored red. Like most phones sharing its color, it only rang for emergency matters.

Jean spun on his heel to address it, smiling to himself. Hopefully, he was getting what he wanted, after all.


	9. No Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a hunt in Sewanhaka, Jean is faced with an unwanted situation.

Some twenty minutes later, Jean went over the unusual phone call in his mind as he entered the cabin of a military-grade helicopter waiting for his group outside the Cellar. In the life of a hunter, it wasn't particularly unusual for outposts to receive strange calls. Some people who called were embarrassed to be dialing their numbers, asking for help regarding paranormal creatures "of all things", and others didn't know how to be precise as to why they called, at all. There were even some cases in which hunters acted more as first responders than an authority. The stories they could tell were vast.

But this call was unusual in a different way, and he wasn't the only one who thought so.

" _So, we're not going to address the fact that a civilian knows what calibre of inhuman they're dealing with?_ " Gulliver asked from the helicopter's cockpit.

"Because what civilian knows about demonic parasites?" Robin agreed.

"None, or so it should be," Calvin responded, his arms crossed against his chest. "Perhaps she and her daughter have hunter friends?"

"Then she wouldn't have called us, you think?" said Musa, sitting across from Robin. "Also, we probably would have received a distress call from those hunters instead."

Jean nodded, looking off. "Not unless those hunters were taken out by the horde." He looked up at them. "But this means she must have come into contact with Tristan or Ulrich at least once. That, or someone else who came upon them gave her our number."

"We'll find out. Playing first-responder isn't all that bad," said Friedrich from beside him.

"But parasites," Robin groaned, "I fucking hate parasites. Remember Southaven?"

"Ugh, don't remind me." Grimacing, Calvin placed a hand over his stomach and shook his other towards him. "I couldn't eat right for days."

Slanting his eye with some humor, Jean chuckled, "I don't think any of us could, Cal."

Even Friedrich, who was also grimacing at the memory, nodded in agreement. "Let us hope this time it's not as ghastly."

They raised into the air the moment the helicopter door shut on their way to the southernmost region of the nearby area of Sewanhaka.

They arrived at their destination in less than twenty minutes. Because of the nature of the hunt, Ulrich and his team were not called to go ahead. The woman had called from a small town within Sewanhaka, keeping them isolated from any noteworthy media outlets.

They landed in a small open area upon a hill overlooking a graveyard, scanning the location before deciding to depart from the helicopter. There was nothing unusual as far as the eye could see in the morning light, but it was quiet.

Too quiet. Much like when Hobboilen and Domien were encountered, not a single animal could be heard. Even the wind was still. From memories alone, a small shiver went down Jean's neck, but he remained calm.

"Friedrich, Calvin, Robin, stay with the helicopter," he ordered, waving at Gulliver and Musa. After they came to his sides, he nodded at them and they all donned paralung oxygen masks. "Radio silence if we can help it, men. You know how this works."

"Sent," all five men said in soft unison.

Instead of running into any given direction, Jean deduced the graveyard would be a good place to start. There was a small house-like building visible from within, and the woman could be hiding there. Over the phone, she made it very clear she wouldn't be staying where she called from. With any luck, she was there or maybe some clues were left behind.

He signaled for Musa and Gulliver to follow him, and together, they jogged at a cautious pace towards the graveyard with their guns in hand. The wrought-iron gate wasn't a deterrent for them, as while they approached, Jean manifested the magical platforms for them to jump onto without breaking their strides.

Once they landed, they went on the alert. Graveyards could be dangerous depending on whatever they were up against. Lich, revenants and other undead, including vampires, found graveyards as "breeding grounds", as hunters called it. Literally and figuratively.

The graveyard was just like any other, and they soon came upon the small house. From its simple but rustic appearance and signs, Jean figured it was a gravekeeper home. They examined its sides and windows, trying to get an idea of what was inside, if anything. Gulliver nodded at Jean, indicating something was inside.

Jean braced himself and readied to kick the door in, but it swung open before he could, startling them all.

In the next second, he was pointing Ringe at the forehead of a woman with wide, frightened eyes.

He knew better than to lower it just yet. "Who are you?"

"I-I called for help and heard the helicopter..." The woman trailed off, looking them over and warily eyeing the gun at her head. "I d-didn't mean to startle you, I'm just...so glad to see _normal_ people again."

Without moving his gun, he reached into his coat and provided a large flask of holy water for her to drink. He held it to her. "Holy water. Got to make sure you're one of us, for caution's sake."

Her expression slightly wilted, but she gladly took the flask. Taking off the top, she didn't drink directly from it, holding it over her mouth to take in a good mouthful. That was fine; germs and all that. She swallowed, and they waited.

He took the flask back and lowered his gun after a few good seconds. "When was the last time you saw these creatures?" he asked, getting right to the point.

She held a hand to her lips, as if horrified at the mere reminder. "I last saw one before I made it here. I made sure it didn't follow me, but they're scattered all over the town. I don't even know if any survivors managed to get away or hide. We're a small town; not many newcomers and not much traffic."

"And your daughter; when did you last see her?"

This time, she closed her eyes as she tried to hold back her emotions. Shakily, she responded, "My daughter...Gaelyn broke away from me to look ahead for _them_. She's faster than I am, in better shape. She meant it well, but then they came and she had to run into another direction, away from me!" A few tears welled in her eyes, but she stubbornly wiped them away, trying to stay strong.

He looked back at Musa and Gulliver, who were on the lookout. They nodded, silently agreeing that they should continue. Facing the woman again, Jean nodded. "We'll find your daughter, miss, and eliminate these creatures."

She smiled a bit, but he saw the depth of sadness in her eyes.

He looked around. "I recommend you stay at the helicopter—"

"I refuse," she said immediately. "And my name is Leilani."

He glanced at her. It wasn't that she could be a major handicap; he could provide her with some magical protection, if nothing else. He simply preferred it that she stayed back, but he didn't bother fighting against the wishes of a stubborn, worried parent.

"Very well." He raised two fingers from his free hand that glowed pink and made a circle in the air in front of her. A similarly pink, semi-transparent shell outlined her body, causing her to gasp. "It will protect you from eight attacks before disappearing," he assured.

"I've never seen this magic, before," she admitted, looking at herself in awe.

Jean caught sight of Gulliver and Musa glancing at him. It wasn't the time to inquire, but they would have to question her about how she even knew what magic was.

Being with Leilani gave Jean a feeling of validity to what they were up against. Albeit, ever since Celezar, he had the feeling holy water meant little to confirm the true nature of some inhumans. Hopefully that was only in the case of supremely rare and powerful inhumans, nothing like a parasite.

They went back into a light jog, taking their time to survey their surroundings as they left the graveyard and onto a long dirt road leading to the town. There were signs indicating the town's name was Goshe along with other local handles.

He knew from experience there were only a few known cures for parasites. If they were the sentient class, there was no cure. If they were the microscopic class, there were a few cures. If they were the insectoid class, there were even fewer cures due to their symbiotic nature. Creator save them if they were dealing with microscopic or insectoid parasites, as they spread faster. Regardless of which class, they were all demons.

Just minutes on the road, his idle thoughts were interrupted upon spotting a shambling body walking towards them. It was a woman, her clothes unkempt and demeanor trancelike, with a large, swollen stomach that was too perfectly orb-shaped. Green veins were visible underneath her skin, with the largest running over her bare stomach, pulsing with life.

Upon seeing them, she turned into their direction, her mouth opening wide and ripping at the corners to show something moving down her throat, even at a distance. Without even bothering to wait until she came closer, Musa shot her in the dead center of her forehead, and her head exploded. Splatters of foreign green liquid as well as natural human bodily fluids hit the ground behind her. Her body staggered for a moment before falling over, unmoved and steaming.

After they found the girl, Jean thought with a scowl, they were going to have to purge the town. By the looks of it, this wasn't an insectoid or microscopic infestation. Sentient parasites had many forms, often blending into society by either melding into the body of their host or, as was most common, acting as a pregnancy. The woman was recently infested; the parasite hadn't fully settled into her.

"Avoid her body," Jean said to Leilani. They continued forward. "The parasite will die so long as no one approaches it before then."

The woman was visibly shocked by the gruesome death, but she wordlessly nodded in understanding.

Having confirmed parasitic activity, Jean felt it best to contact the rest of the men. "Friedrich, come in," he said as they walked across a bridge.

" _Here_."

"I need you to go back to the outpost and ready a purge. The infestation is real..."

They stared upon several more people shambling around, all with bloated stomachs or veiny pallors.

He grimaced. "Very, very real..."

" _Elaborate_."

"We've found the mother of the missing girl, Leilani," he explained, watching as said woman reached to grab a fallen shovel beside some blood. He gave her a look but didn't say anything. Close-quarter combat was risky against parasites, let alone for someone who wasn't trained. "The parasites appear to be sentient of the maiesioic sub-classification. No sign of insectoid or noticeable demonic biology, but that doesn't mean much. We can assume they are Infernal."

" _Sent_."

The moment he stopped speaking, they opened fire. Methodically and efficiently, they began their sweep through the town, creating a path for them to use. Leilani didn't actually engage with any of the infested; her shovel seemed to be more of an emergency and reassurance tool. Jean completely understood.

While the town was small enough that they could probably get through it in an hour and a half, there were many buildings. The area they were running through was a more industrious location with small shops and alleyways ripe for an ambush. They couldn't avoid the alleys, as they were looking for a child. Fortunately, the infested were easy enough to kill.

Sounds of violence erupted some distance ahead in a grassy field. The four of them paused, and Gulliver moved forward to look. After only a moment, he wordlessly held up two fingers before entwining them. Two infested beings. Judging by the animalistic sounds, Jean figured the creatures were infested animals. Gulliver confirmed this when he held his hand in a fist with his thumb sticking out.

Before they could plan a course of action, there was a gurgling yelp. A creature began to run towards them from out the grass. It appeared to be a mutated dog of some kind, its body misshapen and pulsing with large veins.

His face twisting with disgust, Jean watched Gulliver shoot it immediately. It didn't make a sound as it exploded, spewing green and black onto the ground. He immediately rid the ground of the filth, incanting a purification spell.

They continued. There were no deer, birds or other wild animals to be found as they continued, but there were plenty of domestic ones running about. They were likely left behind or had escaped from home during the chaos of the initial infestation.

A sudden sound of terror made them shift, pointing their guns to their upper right. Before their eyes, people who did not appear infested exited a building, running towards them with a small horde of infested chasing them.

"Help! Help us!" a man called while carrying a young child.

Jean and Gulliver moved forward, motioning for the people to get behind them. As most of them did so, Gulliver threw a holy water bomb that exploded on contact. The infested immediately moaned as their bodies dissolved, burbling and bubbling sickly before there was only steaming liquid. Jean quickly incanted at the remains. The blackish liquid began to rise into particles, dissipating into nothing.

"What the hell are those things?!" a woman cried behind him.

He turned to see Musa addressing wounds that people had and handing out water flasks. The group consisted of at least ten people, all unarmed and rightfully terrified. At first, Jean frowned upon seeing the wounds, but then realized they did not consist of cuts or anything that created slices into flesh. There were only scrapes, bruises, and the little things from running for dear life. Cuts could be indicative of things far more sinister than adult parasites.

None of the three hunters had the chance to answer the survivors' questions before Jean sensed something was wrong. As Gulliver and Musa noticed as well, they spun around to see even more infested nearing from all directions. They were some distance off, but it was clearly an attempt at an ambush.

Jean narrowed his eyes. To him, this was orchestrated by something controlling them, not by their own "will". The mother parasite had taken notice of them.

Moving backwards, holding a hand out so the people would corral behind him, he noticed the infested approaching them were all wearing police uniforms. They were even wielding guns.

The moment they were in range, the infested opened fire on them. Without even waiting, Jean raised a violet barrier around all of them, causing the bullets to rebound. Not every bullet gave a fatal shot, but it did enough to stop a small handful of them. While Musa and Gulliver returned fire, Jean unwound Valk, then lashed out to grab an infested and threw it to another. With his free hand, he threw a bomb at them, which exploded upon making contact.

He continued this for several of the others until they were all taken out. The sudden silence was uncanny after all the moans, gunshots and explosions. For a few more seconds, they waited, but nothing else came. He looked up to make sure nothing was above them, then let the barrier down. A distant sound reached his ears.

"Do you hear that?" a man amongst them asked. "Sounds like...whimpering."

Jean, who was closest to the man, nodded. "An animal. A dog, most likely." He looked at the nearest alley, which was further ahead and seemed to be the source of the sound. He glanced at Musa and Gulliver while rewinding Valk. They nodded at him.

He moved past the people, raising Ringe while slowly entering the alley to investigate. The alley wasn't dark like the alleys of a city, with the bright light of the sun shining into it openly. Regardless, he was cautious, holding Ringe at the ready. Around a tall trash can, he caught sight of a dog.

He froze.

It wasn't just any dog, but a black, white and dark tan Saluki with slightly longer hair than average. It was hiding, its tail tucked between its legs and the whites of its brown eyes visible from a distance. It was afraid.

Softly, he murmured, "Basker...?" But that couldn't be right. Could it?

While the animal continued to whimper, the brown eyes briefly flashed a familiar green.

It _was_ Basker.

Suddenly, it clicked. That's what was meant when Jean was told there was another plan. It had to be some more realistic way to introduce the dog Basker to his men. Well, it was more realistic, but a little unnecessary, in Jean's mind. Regardless, he lowered his gun, giving the dog a look that was a mix of amusement and slight irritation. Basker looked so sad...What was the backstory, he wondered?

Naturally, Basker didn't appear to be infested, or even showing early signs of it. There were no green veins, no cuts nor was he drooling green liquid. He didn't move when Jean approached him, looking up plaintively.

"Hey," Jean said softly, going into a crouch. He noticed the dog wore a thick silver collar. As the dog didn't seem to mind his proximity, he gently pet him before moving closer to check what the collar said. "K9 Goshe Unit...Basker." Jean blinked. So, he was a police dog, likely a member of the squad that had been taken over by the parasites.

" _Is it safe, Jean?_ " Gulliver asked over the radio.

"Yes." Jean rested an arm over his knee, shaking his head at the dog. "Shockingly."

The brown eyes glistened green one last time before returning to their normal color.

Gentle coercion eventually brought the dog out the alley, and Jean wasn't surprised when he was followed without much prompt. It actually felt good to have an animal nearby, and many of the survivors seemed to have the same thought, sighing or smiling upon seeing the dog. Superstitious or not, everyone knew animals could sense things far better than a human could.

"Help!"

The sudden loud call took everyone by surprise. It was a childish voice coming from their left, past the business area. Behind him, Jean heard people mutter and suck their teeth. It wasn't wise to go around calling that loudly in their situation; the infested were intelligent enough, despite their shambling nature. The dog softly growled as something came into view.

The girl appeared fast, chased by an infested woman who was far faster than others. The woman bore the typical indicators, but there was something about her that was different from the previous victims.

"Help me! Somebody!"

Jean signaled Musa and Gulliver to back the people and dog into the alley he had just been in, and they ushered them away with haste. All but Leilani, who was nearer to Jean.

"That's my daughter!" she cried, and she raised her shovel before running forward.

"No, wait!" Jean called, and then ran after her. Easily, he caught up to her and held her back.

"Momma!" the girl called, visible tears rolling down her face as she came closer.

"What do you mean, wait?!" Leilani demanded.

Jean continued looking forward, eyeing the woman further ahead. "That isn't an ordinary infested."

"How can you tell? She looks just like the others!"

Frowning, Jean pointed his gun forward. The woman was still a distance away, and he wasn't entirely sure of his aim. Despite that, he shot her. He hit her mouth instead of her forehead, and the blow forced the woman back, her head down on the ground as the bullet burst. She didn't move, her limbs twitching. Lowering his gun, he waited.

As he expected, she slowly moved again, limbs cracking and a loud, bubbling moan escaping her. " _Hunter!_ " she gurgled, lifting herself back onto her feet. Her smoking head was mutilated beyond recognition from the gunshot and was not healing. While at least that much was to be expected, she was entirely unlike the other infested.

As the girl approached them, Jean's frown deepened. The girl, roughly seven years old, was covered in cuts and bruises, her clothes unkempt and dirty. Regardless, Jean allowed her and her mother to reunite. He had other problems.

"Gulliver, I need you over here," he said over the radio. "I think we found the progenitor."

" _Sent, Boss_."

"Leilani, go into the alley with Musa and the others," Jean ordered.

The crying, grateful woman didn't hesitate to scoop her daughter up and run for dear life.

As Gulliver came to Jean's side, the parasite mother felt what remained of her face. "My children were too hasty. If only they had listened!" she growled, gently caressing her stomach. She then glared up at them from an eyeless, maimed face as they lifted their guns.

Just before they opened fire, her throat bulged before a large, amber-colored projectile was spat at them. Eyes widening, they dodged, rolling to the sides. Gulliver stayed crouched on the ground with his rifle while Jean ran forward, unsheathing Hilde. Gunfire erupted behind him, but he didn't pay much mind, knowing he wouldn't be hit.

Parasites were naturally weak. Their threat came from how they essentially killed or maimed humans and animals. And their tenacity was daunting.

The parasite could only barely dodge the hail of bullets, taking several hits but intentionally protecting her stomach by allowing her stretching limbs to take the damage. But again, she wasn't regenerating. With a cry, she ran away, and Jean gave chase. Using inhuman agility and speed, she jumped atop roofs and weaved through buildings. Jean could only barely catch up even with his own abnormal speed, using his platforms to help pursue her.

He lost sight of her around a house. There was no sign of her going into it, but he crouched low, out of sight of the windows. Just as he came around to the front, he went flat on the grass, barely missing an elongated, pointed limb, and then sliced upwards to cut it in half. He let his coat take the green blood and rolled away in time to miss what looked like a pelting of stringy orbs the size of small bird eggs. Going back into a crouch, he shot them, only then realizing they were baby parasites.

Rapidly, he managed to destroy all nine of them, and then heard the gunshots from Gulliver's rifle.

" _She's coming to your side, Jean!_ "

He took out a vial of holy water and stayed low against the house. The moment she came into view from above him, he threw it at her. It broke on impact, and she screamed as it hit her in her chest, just above her stomach.

"My babies!" she cried as she fell. She didn't seem to care about Jean for a moment, trying to wipe the water off her chest, only to continue screaming as it ate through her body. Murderously, she glared up at him, and from between her hanging remains of a mouth came another globule of the amber projectile.

Jean ducked, then manifested a bluish-white whip before lassoing it around the parasite mother's neck as she was about to run away again. It tugged, and he was pulled along over the grass, even though he was still on his feet. He tethered it to the ground with magic and heard the choke as the creature hit the ground.

"Move, Jean!"

Wasting no time, Jean took several bounds back, catching the bombs roll around the creature's body. He crouched, shielding himself with a violet barrier, and the bombs went off. The inhuman cries of the mother parasite rang out even after the last bomb exploded, echoing eerily through the town.

After the smoke and debris died down, Jean lowered the barrier and looked around. Where the parasite once was, a nasty green, foul-smelling splotch sat, and he grimaced. Softly, he incanated towards the corruption, but the green did not rise from the ground. He frowned. He wasn't strong enough for this particular taint, it seemed.

Gulliver came to his side. Visually inspecting one another, they nodded with reassurance. "Did you notice the girl, Boss?"

"Yeah..." Sighing, Jean waved Hilde before sheathing it and returned Ringe to its holster. "This isn't going to be pretty."

" _You might want to get over here_ ," said Musa over the radio.

The two men glanced at each other before running back to the alley.

When they arrived, there were more green splotches a ways from the alleyway indicating more infested had been killed, but that wasn't the problem. There was a sort of ruckus, the people shouting and raising makeshift weapons against Leilani, who shielded her crying daughter outside the alley.

"Please, she's only a child!" she said while looking at Musa who stood between the her and the people.

He appeared to be sympathetic, a crease between black brows and his hands raised. "Yes, but we must check."

Knowing exactly what was going on, Jean heaved a deep exhale. This was the type of thing he hated about his job. Dealing with the people. That was Ulrich's thing, not his.

Leilani shook her head. "But...you'd kill her!"

"Only if she doesn't pass the test," Musa glanced over at Jean and Gulliver. "And she might pass."

The woman's eyes widened with horror. "But...!"

"The dog isn't bothered, so I doubt there's something amiss," Jean interjected, placing one hand on his side and the other to point at the dog that was being petted by the youngest of the survivors further into the alley.

Leilani looked torn. "Shouldn't that be enough of an indicator?"

"Afraid not. But I assure you, this is mostly for peace of mind."

"Yeah, Leilani! Just do it!" said one of the other women behind Musa.

"We must check!" echoed a man. "She has cuts!"

Musa took his flask and held it out towards Leilani. "Please."

As the seconds ticked by, Jean caught glimpses of the girl behind her mother. Leilani was doing her best to hide her, but he managed to catch it. Even with one eye. Perhaps it was his angle, at the side of Leilani and Gaelyn, but he noticed.

When Gaelyn was initially seen, she had cuts on her face. Perhaps from running and falling, or colliding with something, or even from what he hoped was not the reason and she had parasite eggs, which were malleable, running through her body. But the cuts were no longer there, with only drying blood as an indicator they were once there at all.

A baby parasite didn't do that.

His throat clenched. He knew exactly what this meant, but he just couldn't believe it. Internally, he quickly warred. He could do one of two things. He could do his job, which was to be expected in the eyes of his men or downplay it and arouse possible suspicion later.

But it was either he did this, or the girl drank the water and it was discovered anyway. That, and the possibility she might try to run away...

Steeling himself, he slowly reached for a vial of holy water higher up on the belt across his chest. Holy water vials were made of such material that shattered upon contact with an inhuman that could be affected by it. If he was lucky, his aim with his hands was still decent.

Without warning, he threw the vial to the girl's bare legs, and it shattered upon impact. Immediately, the girl produced a pained, inhuman shriek and she collapsed behind her mother.

Gasping as she spun around, Leilani cried out in horror, but it wasn't with the dread that the hunters expected to see upon the woman's face. It was the horror of fear. Fear for her daughter's life.

"Momma, it hurts!" the girl wailed, grasping at her sizzling, boiling legs. "It hurts so much!"

Watching, Jean's expression deepened into an almost— _almost_ —sympathetic frown. That was the expected reaction. If the child had been just recently infested, it would not have been. This meant something else. Something worse, in the eyes of a hunter. At his side, Gulliver heaved his rifle over his shoulder before walking forward. Leilani's cries went ignored as he pulled her away from the crying girl with ease.

"Let me go!" Tears began to cascade down her face, and she leaned forward as Jean neared her daughter. "Please! She's only a child!"

"If she is your daughter, you mated with or was mated by an inhuman," he said. Gasps were heard from the other survivors. He unholstered his gun, pointing at the girl's head.

Her mother screamed. "No! Please!"

Fanged teeth and teary red eyes looked up at him.

Vampire. A daywalking Dhampir, at that. His expression hardened as he slowly pressed down on the trigger. The mother's cries went unheard.

Truth be told, he hated vampires.

The shot went off, scattering blood and brain matter on Gaelyn's opposite side along the road. Not a second later, the wailing cry of a parent in mourning echoed about them. The boiling of flesh and organs met his ears, and he stared at what was left of the girl's head as her body crumbled away. He turned to look at Leilani. The woman was beyond tears, unable to keep herself upright, limp like a puppet in Gulliver's grasp. Unintelligible sounds emitted from her.

Jean watched for a moment, then stood before her. In a mix of turmoil and seasoned aloofness, he wanted to pity her. In the moment, he couldn't will himself to wallow in his actions.

The life of a hunter.

 He nodded at Gulliver, who let Leilani go. She crumpled to the ground, reaching over to what remained of her daughter. There was only charred blackness on the ground. He watched, and then reloaded his gun.

"Unfortunately, there is this thing us hunters do to people like you." He approached her and crouched to place the gun to her temple. "You can join your daughter in Inferno."

The shot went off, splattering a mix of body fluids and flesh onto the ground.

Leilani's body fell over to her side, her hand still in the charred remains.

Jean felt the eyes boring into him from the survivors. It was scathing. He holstered his gun and wordlessly turned to look at them. Musa had moved closer to them, his arms, which had been out to prevent anyone from moving closer, lowering at his sides.

"Well, then," Gulliver huffed while crossing his arms. He was also staring at the remains. "Been a while since we dealt with a tosser."

Jean glanced at him. Tosser. It was a derogatory word inhumans hunters called those who "tossed away" their humanity. They didn't necessarily have to become inhuman from it.

He looked back at the chars. That could be his fate— _would_ be his fate—if he became inhuman.

_I protect what's mine._

Celezar's words came back to him, causing him to tightly purse his lips.

The distant sound of a helicopter broke him out of his stasis.

About damn time.

Jean turned away from the survivors. "Robin, Friedrich, Calvin. You all alright?"

" _Perfectly. Mission accomplished?_ " Calvin asked over the radio.

"Just a few minutes ago."

" _Guess our timing was on point, then. Just tell us where you are, and we'll be there._ "

"We're in town. Go past the graveyard and approach..." Jean glanced around for a landmark. There was a small structure with a bright red roof beside a building with a blue one. It wasn't much of a landmark, but it would do. "Go further in from there, in a straight line, and you'll see these red and blue roofs side by side. You'll see us; we have survivors."

" _Sent, Boss._ "

Lowering his head, Jean gazed back at the woman's body and the chars. Murmurs had emerged from the survivors, but none of them seemed worth worrying over. Let them talk, he thought.

Before long, the military-grade helicopter became visible in the distance. Jean watched it approach, then glanced down at Basker as he came to his side. Even then, he didn't look at the sad brown eyes.

He didn't even have to think about it.

If all he learned about Celezar recently meant anything, the likelihood he murdered two innocent people was high. He murdered them, as he did to so many other people like them in the past. The hunter in him didn't want to believe it, but his heart, it had begun to do as of late, slightly ached at the thought.

For the first time, he softly murmured a prayer for the mother and daughter, victims not of an inhuman's influence but his own bloodstained hands.


	10. Walk the Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean contemplates Goshe and finally arrives at the Memorraw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Well, this is it. The last chapter in this preview of The Molt Series: HuShS! At least... _possibly_...for now. Because of this, and the fact that this is the first of a new month, I thought I would update now instead of on Monday. Enjoy!

The sound of helitankers full of holy water entering the airspace overtook the drone of the helicopter's rotors for the few minutes they passed by. Jean didn't bother watching, didn't bother thinking about it. What happened to Goshe now was all Ulrich and Tristan's work.

As he sat in the helicopter cabin with his men, he watched the Saluki interact with them in a somewhat detached and irate state.

"A former police dog, eh? Interesting," said Gulliver, petting the dog lying at their feet. "He must have been used for certain situations."

"Probably. Good thing we're bringing him back; I wouldn't be surprised if he's traumatized." Calvin gave Jean a slight nudge. "We could use a dog around the Cellar, eh, Boss?"

Instead of answering, Jean merely nodded. He then looked out the window behind him in contemplation—and so that he didn't have to see the dog's face. Basker looked so sad. He didn't know if it was all part of the façade or if it was because of what he did to the mother and daughter. It was bothering him.

Killing an inhuman or their human associates never bothered him before. But this was different.

His uncle's words from earlier came to him, and he would have scoffed, if he had the energy to. Some time off was beginning to sound appealing. He was, after all, human. Being human was a good thing.

Wasn't it?

Lips pursing, he was thankful for the mental sanctuary. Such a question would get him in dangerous trouble if said aloud, and after what he did? He wouldn't dare. In his life as a hunter, he was the instigator of the deaths of many who were all too willing to give up or trade their lives for the sake of "love" for an inhuman. The thought was supposed to be insignificant, and yet it held the gravitas of Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders.

He could sympathize with those people, now. Part of him hated it. The other part...

His brows tightened, and he continued to look away from the dog.

"Am I the only one with an appetite, still?" Robin asked with a cheeky smile. He was immediately and lightly clocked upside his head by Friedrich.

" _You_ weren't dealing with the infestation. _You_ don't get to tease them," said the older man.

The twin merely laughed it off, swatting Friedrich's hand away while Calvin made a sound of disgust.

Jean glanced over at Musa, who was also quiet. The man's eyes were closed, his hands entwined in his lap, and to Jean, he appeared to be meditating. Or praying.

Jean looked away again.

"What are we going to do with ol' Basker, here?" asked Robin.

"See what he knows," Jean responded. "If he can be useful as a hunting dog, we should be able to direct him to sniffing out and chasing inhumans. He might even be able to sniff out tossers. If not, we can just give him a home. Like Cal said, it'd be nice to have a dog..."

The man in question nodded. "Fits the aesthetic, eh?"

"Exactly."

In short time, they returned to the isle. After disembarking, they rode back to the Cellar via their horses. Talk of an early lunch was about, a conversation Jean didn't participate in. He didn't feel like eating; he lost his appetite. Long ago, he learned to keep an appetite after killing inhumans, but this time was different. The situation was different. Other situations leading up to it made it different.

He glanced down at the dog running alongside the horse, tethered to a rope he held in his hand.

 _That_ was different.

Returning to the outpost, he, Gulliver and Musa went to the washroom to rid themselves of the unanimously sordid feeling and reminder of the infestation. Jean brought Basker in as well, talking to him along the way as he gave the dog a simple warm wash, as he seemed otherwise clean. The sad expression in the dog's eyes had mostly disappeared.

Situated in the center of the washroom at the back wall, Jean didn't bother looking up from the dog, this time. While the sound of the showers going and the water rushing out of the hose echoed in his ear, his mind wandered idly. He was somewhat concerned since Basker hadn't spoken to him, yet...

He waited until Gulliver and Musa had finished up in the showers before going in, himself. Basker was washed and dried, and he needed a moment to himself. After drying and dressing, he reached out with his senses for the familiar tingling in his veins indicating a servant was near and asked them to get Basker some dog-related items: food, bedding, and the norm. The servant gave a bow before disappearing from sight, moving too fast for him to catch.

He returned upstairs with Basker and went into the sickbay. Initially, he hoped Verne would be able to check Basker for any problems, but...

"I'm not a veterinarian," Verne reminded.

"Surely _some_ human-related things can be implemented for animals?" Jean asked, watching Basker sniff the floor.

"A very few."

Jean nodded, looking up. "He passed the field test, Verne. I doubt you'd have to do much. He was also a police dog, so he's probably in good health."

Verne sighed heavily, but relented, taking the makeshift leash. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." Jean crouched beside Basker. "Verne'll take care of you, now," he assured the dog. His answer to that was a gentle lick on his cheek.

A lick that didn't smell like a dog's in the slightest. He gave the dog a look before leaving the sickbay.

"Artie, I need to talk to you in a few," Jean called to his cousin as he passed through the antechamber.

Artie was on his way to the bathroom. "Sure. I'll be around."

"Thanks."

Jean moved into his office to sit at his desk. The moment he sat, he realized he hadn't created a report of what happened in Ridridge. His mind had been elsewhere. With pursed lips, he grudgingly decided a written report of the Ridridge incident would be ideal to bring with him along with the recordings from Hugh, Butch and Artie's cameras to the Memorraw. As a bonus, those were the type of things Caden would call "proper leadership".

He stifled the urge to roll his eye.

Shortly after the report for both Ridridge and Goshe were written, there was a knock at the door. "Come in."

Artie stepped inside and approached the desk. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes." Jean looked up at him, lowering a Manilla folder he had been closing. "There's a mandatory meeting at the Memorraw in three days. Leaders and their seconds."

Artie held his hands behind his back, raising a brow. "It's been a while since we've been to that old place." He gave a nod. "I'll get ready."

Inclining his head, Jean stood as his cousin left, then followed to return to the sickbay. Verne was where Jean last saw him, but Basker was atop a bed that was lowered flat with a paper sheet over it. The doctor was talking to the dog, and his expression had lightened up.

Upon seeing Jean, Verne shook his head. "This dog is very intelligent."

"Oh?" Jean neared, then stood with his arms folded.

"Whomever? trained him knew what they were doing, no doubt about it. He's also quite young, I would say; still an adolescent."

Blinking, Jean looked from the dog to Verne and back. "A puppy," he softly chuckled. "That should make training him some more rather easy."

"I imagine so." Verne gave the dog a pat, then snapped his fingers to get the dog's attention and motioned to the floor. Without much more of a prompt, Basker stepped down from the bed.

Jean hummed. "Impressive."

"In any case," Verne handed the leash back to Jean, "he is indeed healthy, from what little I could see. Young, healthy, and eager to please. He does not, however, seem too happy. I imagine that's from losing his entire force."

"Likely..." Jean gave the dog gentle pets, then nodded at Verne. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." The doctor gave him a pointed look.

Jean softly chuckled, raising a hand. "Alright. Won't happen, again."

Verne waved him away, beginning to take the paper off the bed.

Leaving the sickbay, Jean passed through the antechamber to take the right staircase to the barracks. It was faint, but he could hear sounds of fighting in the arena downstairs. Briefly, he wondered who was training, then brought Basker to the living room area. There was an accent table at the far right side of the couch that was normally bare save for a spider plant. Now, the plant was gone, replaced with dry dog food and a large dog bed partially underneath the table. Bowls for food and water, along with accessories were on the floor.

Crouching near the table, Jean took up the somehow perfectly and quickly-made collar that already had the dog's name on it along with the name of their group and Isle Veni. The servants moved remarkably fast, as expected. He brushed his finger over the name, then glanced at Basker, who looked up at him with patient eyes. Patient, somewhat sad eyes.

He was about to speak when he decided to think better of it. He would rather not risk his men overhearing him speak to Basker as he would talk to Celezar. Instead, he thought of possibly taking the dog to the nearby forest. With that in mind, he placed the collar around Basker's neck.

The moment it was on, Basker turned away and went to his new bed. Jean watched him sniff it before settling. Not knowing what to make of that, Jean observed for a moment more before standing to leave.

He wasn't sure if Basker—or rather, Celezar—was playing a façade or just...

Shaking his head, he turned around and left the barracks. He knew Basker would behave.

He had enough to think about

~::~

That early morning, Jean awoke in a sour mood. There were a few things on his mind, such as what had happened in Goshe as well as the fact that he was too deeply within his own mind of late to remember to do certain things. It wasn't like him to do so. The fact that Basker had yet to talk to him had much to do with it as well.

Despite the dog's new status, he intended to bring Basker with him on the trip to the Memorraw. As he would be arriving early, he intended to "fit in" some "training".

He walked upstairs to the antechamber where all the members of his group had gathered. He had called them for a spontaneous meeting, as it was becoming rare to see them all at once. With what happened with Ridridge and then Goshe along with everything else, he was feeling the throbs of a growing headache.

The moment he entered the large room, a myriad of eyes fell on him. His irritated demeanor must have been evident, as some brows furrowed.

"What's wrong, Jean?" Friedrich asked, sitting beside Nicholae at the bar.

Giving his head a shake, moving to stand before them, Jean replied, "You'll have to forgive me. I've been meaning to talk about this for some time, now..."

The men shifted, confused looks forming on their faces. "It's understandable, Jean," said Nicholae.

"Yeah," Lucas added. "It's been, what, two days since Ridridge?" He shuddered.

Jean nodded in agreement. Still, it bothered him. "I've been considering. Since the Augusus incident, our number has gone down to fourteen. It's been our norm to have fifteen members ever since my father was leader of the group."

Several of the older men nodded with understanding.

"Therefore, I'm going to take some time at the Memorraw to find and recruit another member." Jean looked at each of his men for their reactions.

Acquiescing nods went around. "Sounds good," said Hugh. He stood near the entrance to the office. "What's the point of having one empty bed, anyways?"

"Aye," Nicholae agreed. Beside him, Friedrich was also nodding.

"Wish we could go," said Robin. "Bring back some souvenirs, Boss."

"Sure," Artie scoffed. "Rock samples."

The other men chuckled, but the overall atmosphere was agreeable. Jean nodded. "I also meant to ask if anyone had even some idea as to why the increase of Infernals is happening.

Looks of consideration formed on the faces of the veterans. Nicholae spoke first. "I think something is driving them, attracting them to Clovuria."

"Agreed," said Butch. "Such activity isn't common here. They're more common in the Far Eastern and Near Eastern countries."

Jean tilted his head slightly to the side. "As in whatever attracted them to those countries has come here?"

"Possibly."

"There shouldn't be any other reason. The Far East is experiencing a lull in activity, right now," said Trevor as he sat at the poker table.

"Do you think someone's summoning these things?" Jean asked.

"The Eastern Underground debunked that theory. Hasn't been anything like that since the Vampire incident thirty years ago."

 Jean nodded, glancing off in thought.

As he was told by Celezar what was truly happening, he was more so asking questions for the sake of courtesy. He needed his men to know he was thinking about this, wanted to know the reason behind it. His feelings about it were true; after some time considering it, he did want to find a way to stop Hobboilen and Domien.

It also wouldn't make sense if he didn't ask the members of his group for their input. He was fortunate to have five members of his group with over twenty years of inhuman hunting under their belts, with Verne a wise member overall. He had an inkling he was going to have to put up a front quite often in the events to come.

"I can ask around to see if a Hell Gate was opened," Trevor offered, bringing Jean out of his thoughts.

Gulliver made a face, as did Friedrich and Nicholae. "Don't you think it would be obvious if a Hell Gate was opened?" he asked, shifting beside Trevor at the table.

The bespectacled man shrugged. "No harm in making sure."

"Get on it," Jean ordered with a nod. "I want all possibilities covered with absolute clarity."

"Sent, Boss."

"Anything else?" Jean asked, looking at them.

"Do you remember the report on the inhumans of Adoette?" Friedrich asked, idly stroking his beard.

Recalling what he read of a hunt that occurred during his coma, Jean mulled it over in his mind. "You said they were...escaping from something?"

"Something god-awful, by the sound of it," Friedrich continued, "and I believe that something was the devil and its probable mate. They could be causing all of this."

"Can devils rally lesser Infernals to them?" asked Raphael, idly spinning his knives.

"I imagine so," said Verne, standing near the wall of the hall to the infirmary. "But, that's only based on what we know of A-Class Infernals. If they can rally lessers to them, why not devils, who are their superiors? Unfortunately, it's only speculation; we know little to nothing about devils."

"It sounds plausible. Meaning we're going to have to get rid of them if we want to get this mess over with." Jean considered the meeting at the Memorraw. Without a doubt, this was going to be brought up there. He looked upon his men with a thankful expression. "I appreciate your inputs."

Smiling, Nicholae gave a nod. "Take care on your trip, Jean, Artie."

A chorus of similar words were given to the cousins. Dismissed, the sounds of chairs shifted and small noises resounded as the men returned to their business. It was only around six o'clock in the morning and was time to leave to the Memorraw. Jean's bags were packed, and he returned downstairs to get them with Artie behind him.

They grabbed their duffel bags, and Jean whistled for Basker. The dog raised up from where he was sitting beside the couch and approached. He reached down to pet him. The three of them then went upstairs.

Instead of their horses, they took a dual-colored, black and brown car to the isle's airstrip. It was located a few miles to the far, distant northeast of the Lowell manor, consisting of the airstrip and a small building that served as the airport. It had its own hangar, tower, and airport authority. The jet was pulling around the airstrip as Jean and Artie exited the car with Basker in tow.

They were traveling by a small private jet instead of a helicopter. Sometimes, Jean forgot his family even had planes, let alone jets, as he was more accustomed to using the helicopters.

The door to the buggy was opened for them, and then the driver moved to take their bags out the trunk. Ahead, the jet stopped, and Jean looked at it while exiting. It had been years since he last boarded an airplane, so slight pings of excitement stirred within him upon seeing it. At the bottom of the steps stood a servant who, for the family's normal planes, would have come along with them. But the day before, when Jean arranged everything with the airport authority, he informed them the servant would not be coming along.

Before long, they were in the air. While sitting in a small area in the back with Basker, Jean shook his head in disbelief. He chose the simplest of the jets, not even the ones for business used by his older brother Tristan and their mother, and yet the interior was lavish. A bar, a counter, a bathroom, chairs, and couches...His family could be ostentatious, sometimes.

Basker was looking out the window, quiet as always, and Jean petted him idly. He was accustomed to waking up early. For more than fourteen years of his life, waking up at four o'clock in the morning was rather normal for his body. Yet, for some reason, he couldn't remember falling asleep during the trip.

He awoke from a dreamless nap to the jostling of the jet as it lowered in altitude. They were arriving at their destination. Some time had passed, and the sun had risen a bit. Looking out the window, he observed their location. The Memorraw was located within a flat boulder-like mountain surrounded by open land some mile or so from a road leading to the city of Bremen. He supposed he could spend most of his time in the city, but there was little he considered after that. He didn't know what to do.

He observed the descent. Distant landmass were visible from above, and he eyed the stretched-out land between locations. His life revolved around hunting, the life of an inhuman hunter. All the first half of the short "vacation" was going to remind him of was how little a life he had outside of that. It was no wonder Ulrich would sometimes joke he'd never get married, and Jean would be there joking right alongside him.

When the jet finally landed, rolling around within a lit, enclosed but large space, Jean looked back out the window. They appeared to be in a massive, cavernous area that had been gutted and reformed as a plane hangar and airstrip. Some time had passed since his last visit, but he recalled enough.

From the front of the plane, Artie hummed. "Did this place get bigger?"

"Probably." Jean glanced at the small planes and jets that were parked as their jet turned around. Some of the planes had the last names of hunters on them. He spotted two that were immediately familiar. "Seems like Holloway and Reznick are here," he said upon glimpsing at two planes marked with the names of the groups.

Artie hummed. "Guess we weren't the only ones thinking of lazing for the first days before the meeting."

When the jet finally stopped, Jean unclasped his belt and stood. He stretched out a few times, which seemed to awaken Basker. The dog raised his head to look up at him.

"We're here, Bask. Come on," he urged, motioning to the exit of the jet as one of the pilots left the cockpit to lower the folding stairs. The dog realized they were leaving once Jean began to walk towards the exit and raised up from the floor to follow him.

Upon exiting, his and Artie's bags were handed to them by the pilot, and he took a moment looking around. Their jet was parked against a wall with plenty of space between the other jets and planes on both sides. He counted at least six planes and jets, not including theirs. Not that many but more than he thought would be there so early.

His gaze followed along the wall behind them, eventually landing upon a wall-length entrance at the right wall much further inside appearing as large glass doors. At the top of the wall to his left were turrets. Several heavily armed men were roaming about the airstrip, and two were approaching them. One had what appeared to be a water tank on his back and was filling two paper cups with said water from a retractable spout. Holy water, no doubt.

Glancing around, Jean saw that there were other men with the same equipment.

"Welcome," said the first man, carrying a rifle in his hands. "Care for a drink?" he asked just as the other man, who was larger and more intimidating, offered them the cups.

Wordlessly, Jean and Artie took and drank from them. The water was cool and went down smoothly. "Zamzam again? Is it popular, now?" Jean asked.

"The Dox received a shipment from Arabia recently and distributed it to some local and out-of-country outposts," the first man replied. "We try to use it at least once a week; it's a precious commodity, you know."

"Guess we got lucky, then," said Artie, throwing the cup into a small trash bin hanging from the larger man's hip like a pouch.

Jean didn't drink all his water, saving some for Basker. The dog lapped it up gratefully, and he petted him as the water was drunk. This satisfied the men, and Jean also threw the cup away.

Yellow crystals were handed to them, and both he and Artie showed their symbols on the backs of their hands. Content, the first man took the crystals and put them into a pocket before beckoning to their jet.

"Mind if we check it out?" he asked.

"Not at all. Just don't bother with the pilots; they're part-inhuman, bonded to my blood."

Both men's expressions changed to ones of interest. "Then you must be...Jean-Luc Lowell, yes?"

"Yes."

"Pleasure to meet you." Into an earpiece, the first man said, "They're clear. It's Jean-Luc Lowell and...?"

Artie nodded. "Arther Lowell."

"Arther Lowell."

From behind them, a low whirring was made. Jean and Artie turned to see a large wheeled transporter driven by another man in hunter garb, though not as heavily armed. There was space on the transporter for their bags to be placed in the back as well as at least seven seats for them to sit on. Leaving the two men to their inspection, the cousins placed their bags on the transporter, then sat down with Basker between them. The transporter rolled off towards the glass doors.

As they approached, it became apparent the border of the door was lined with a device of some sort. It appeared to be a kind of x-ray machine, large scale and very impressive. Passing beyond the doorway, lights on the edge of the machine lit up, just enough for Jean to catch a glimpse before they went through. No doubt their bodies and bags had been scanned, though what would be considered worthy of suspicion was an enigma to Jean. Every intelligent hunter carried a weapon with them at all times.

Traversing through the lit halls of the apparent air base brought back some memories for Jean. He recalled the high ceiling, the lights flashing above and the rock-like walls that gave the halls some charm. Hunters of all calibres with assorted gear were walking in all directions and some were also on transporters of varying sizes. There were platforms above that yielded just a little over six feet high where some hunters were walking and conversing, watching the activity below.

A large, industrial elevator guarded and operated by three men was their destination. Jean remembered this. The main outpost was both on the ground floor and belowground. The man on the transporter stopped at the elevator and asked them, "Do you know where you're going?"

"The barracks. I know the way," Jean said. That much, at least, he did remember.

The man nodded at them and they hopped off to enter the elevator. Bags over their shoulders, they stepped inside and watched one of the men press their floor's button from a console near the elevator's doors. The doors closed, and they began their descent.

Basker's tail was wagging from the excitement of liveliness, and Jean smiled a bit. He was finding himself nostalgic and in a rather good mood, as well.

The barracks, which were truthfully more like typical inn rooms, were located to the far right of the outpost's first basement floor. The ceiling wasn't as high as the main floor space and was co-gender. Some men and women alike walked to and fro, though naturally the men outnumbered the women by an overwhelming amount; only while on their way to the barracks did Jean see any women since arriving at all.

When the cousins reached their destination, they came upon a large, open lounge space and halls going left, straight, and to the right. Before the halls and the lounge was what seemed to be an operator's desk sitting higher than a typical one. Even the man sitting there with his female counterpart was dressed in hunting gear.

"Names?" the man asked them.

"Jean-Luc and Arther Lowell," said Jean. He looked down at Basker. "And one dog."

Keys were gently tossed to them, and both Jean and Artie caught them. "You both get your own, individual rooms. Doesn't matter whichever of you has the dog," said the woman.

"Right. Thanks," said Artie, whereas Jean nodded. To his cousin, he said, "I guess this is where we part."

Eyeing his key, Jean nodded. The numbers on their keys had different wing indicators. "See you around."

They split; Jean and Basker went to the left and Artie walked straight ahead. The sooner Jean could put his bag away, the sooner he could get to the important matter of exploration.

His room was nearest to the end of the hall, and after a click, the door opened with his key. Inside was a modest space smelling of a slightly fresh scent large enough for a brown, full size bed, strong wire shelves hanging from the ceiling, a pole for hanging clothes, and a small brown desk with a rolling chair. In the back of the room was an open bathroom with doors leading to the toilet and shower. It was just as he remembered.

Basker immediately went sniffing around, and Jean placed his bag on the bed. He took a moment to watch after the dog, words running through his mind but unsure how to address what he was thinking—had been thinking—for a while.

With a soft exhale, he laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling before letting his eyes close. Not a second later, a soft sound met his ears. It was like soft rustling, as if from material or movement. The bed dipped at his sides, and he opened his eyes to see green orbs looking down at him from a familiar face.

"Something on your mind, love?" Celezar tilted his head to the side.

Staring blankly at him, Jean murmured, "Everything is on my mind."

Tilting his head to the side, Celezar frowned. "What's wrong?"

Looking away, Jean didn't respond immediately. Only when calloused fingers began to brush his hair out of his face did he softly exhale. "I wish you hadn't seen that."

Celezar slowly stilled.

"You shouldn't have seen it." Jean recalled Goshe, the mother and daughter. "But you see it and saw it all the time, didn't you? Us killing inhumans like that. Killing people like that. Some have called hunters 'monsters', too. But you know that, already..."

There was a heavy exhale, but it didn't sound irritated or angry.

When Celezar remained silent, Jean continued. "I feel as though what happened was some sort of cosmic test. I...failed it."

Coarse palms took his face, turning his head so he was looking up at Celezar. The hybrid looked sad, but perhaps a bit annoyed as well. His thumb caressed Jean's scar. "This isn't a series of tests, Jean. Not to be with me, earn my trust or anything. I've already given my all to you. What happened was...what you felt you had to do."

While his face was forward, Jean's eyes looked away and he didn't respond. There was another exhale, softer, calmer, and then lips skimmed over his. Staring forward, he watched his partner nuzzle him with his eyes closed. It brought the smallest of smiles to his face, but he didn't feel any better.

Instead, he scanned Celezar's face. Dark speckles dotted his tawny beige skin, interrupted only by small scars scattered along his face and a long one over his right eyebrow ending just before his hairline. Relaxing somewhat, Jean reached into Celezar's auburn curls and gently massaged his scalp. Celezar's eyes remained closed, and a smile formed on his face as he softly exhaled. He then lowered to rest his body atop Jean's.

Jean would never be able to deny how safe he felt in Celezar's presence despite knowing what he was. That was his subconscious mind. His conscious mind, on the other hand, was at a complete and utter loss.

Deciding not to think about it for the umpteenth time, he closed his eyes and held Celezar close.

Seconds after, he heard a soft rumbling sound. A gentle vibration went through his chest coming from Celezar's. He paused while blinking. Incredulous, he asked, "Are you _purring?_ "

Slanting his eyes open, Celezar scoffed. "My kind _invented_ purring, thank you very much."

The lazy, contented drawl brought a larger smile to Jean's face. He went back to massaging his partner's head. "Which one?"

"Hallow."

Jean's brows furrowed. "An earthbound creature...purrs?"

"Mm, I prefer the term 'rumbling' myself." Celezar's eyes closed again, and he gently pecked Jean's lips.

His smile widening, Jean also closed his eyes. The rolling vibrations increased in intensity, and he lowered a hand to wrap an arm around Celezar's body.

"Jean."

"Hm?"

"What are you going to do for the rest of the day? It's early."

Making a soft, tentative sound, Jean answered, "I think...I'm just going to walk around, for starters. See if any of my friends are here, yet. Maybe get familiar with the outpost again."

"Oh, good. I was hoping to walk around with you in human form, maybe. No one will recognize us in the nearby city, and I can keep a lookout for anyone familiar."

Jean considered this. It didn't take much for him to cave. He hadn't spoken to Celezar in days. "Alright."

Celezar slightly shifted atop him. Opening his eyes, Jean let him go, allowing him to stand and morph back into his animal form. It was interesting to watch and happened in mere seconds. Celezar's body moved as if like water, shaping and shimmering into another, smaller form. Once the brown eyes were looking back up at him, Jean left the room with the dog in tow.

After closing the door behind him, he looked up in time to see a muscular man take notice of him as he walked past at the divide further ahead. "Jean!"

A genuine smile spread on Jean's face. He approached his friend, holding out a hand that was grasped tightly. "Will. It's been forever," he greeted heartily.

The man's expression dropped. "Goodness, man. Your voice...Your eye."

Jean took his hand back to trail his fingers over his scar. It was only when he touched his open left eye that he realized he forgot to put on his eyepatch. It was definitely better than before, but... "It's fine."

"It sure as the fires is not." Turning to stand beside his friend, Will placed an arm around Jean's shoulders. "Walk with me."

"As if I have a choice."

Boisterous laughter boomed from Will's mouth as they left the barracks.

"Shut it, man! People are trying to sleep!" hissed the woman at the counter.

Will ignored her, whereas Jean only rolled his eyes. Jean then glanced back to make sure Basker was behind them, and he noticed the brown eyes were green for a second as what he would swear was an irritated look briefly overcame the dog's face.

Well...Celezar could wait for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I'm very thankful for all that have taken the time to read and left such kind, motivating comments. If you like/have time to/are interested, please go to my Facebook page [Stories by Mar Qaroll](https://www.facebook.com/marqaroll/) and vote in the poll (which is a bit wonky, unfortunately)! Also, follow me for advance future updates, behind the scenes insight, and more!


	11. Boon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean makes due on his decision to obtain a new member and spends time with Celezar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** 'Lo, ev'ryone! Thanks so much for supporting this story! It's a sad, overcast and mighty rainy day, over here...
> 
> So here's the skinny: after some intense debating, I've decided to try uploading... _most_ of the story instead of just part of it. I might withhold the ending or something...for reasons. I don't know what my upload schedule is going to be like, but maybe once a week on Friday or Monday? We'll see. This is a late chapter, but don't expect another until roughly next Friday/Monday. Or other. I'll announce it. 
> 
> Speaking of which, if getting updates on when chapters are posted, posting changes and whatnot as well as some insight to the series is interesting to you, please support my Facebook page [Stories by Mar Qaroll](https://www.facebook.com/marqaroll/)! I just made a Twitter account as well, which is linked to on my page. 
> 
> Thank you all so much again, and enjoy~!

Leaving the barracks, Jean was led by Will back out into the hall and into what seemed like a random direction. As Basker weaved around their legs, Will lowered to pet him.

"Never saw you as the Saluki type," he commented.

Jean's lips twitched. "He's a rescue dog, I suppose. He was in a police force that became infested with parasites. If they found some reason to have him, I feel he'll work well for us."

Will looked forward again, his expression contemplative. "Interesting. He might be one-of-a kind; that's always a good find." He shook his head and punched Jean's shoulder. "In any case, man. I haven't seen you in almost a year. Almost a year, and next I see you, you're sporting scars given by an infiltrator. Whatever happened to that bastard Celezar?"

With surprising ease, Jean responded, "I've no idea. None of us do. He saved my life and several of my men's lives, then disappeared. Haven't seen him since."

"That's damn uncanny." Will lowered his arm and glanced around. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it? What other inhumans might be lurking about?"

"I...truthfully try not to think about it. My group has had enough trouble since this increase in Infernal activity."

"Understandable."

Jean glanced at Basker, who was obedient and stayed close to his side. He found it incredible that he could now talk so easily about these topics. About Celezar, about Hobboilen and Domien. At least in the moment.

"Speaking of which, I don't suppose you have any idea what Celezar _is_ , eh?"

"None. Not him nor the tall creature from Ridridge."

They walked towards an open area looking out from the side of the mountain. The rail prevented anyone from falling off, and Jean moved to lean against the near wall while Will placed his hands on the rail and leaned forward. The mass of buildings of the nearby city were clearly visible in the early light.

A short silence stretched between them, then Will glanced at him. "You really saw a devil?"

"Undoubtedly." Jean's eyes narrowed. He glanced off towards the the city. "What other Infernal has hooves but a devil? A spaded tail?"

"True, that." Will gave a small shudder. "I'm glad you didn't lose anyone or your own life."

Looking to the floor, Jean spotted Basker sniffing around out the corner of his eye. "Much as I hate to say it...we have Celezar to thank for that..."

Will scoffed but said nothing else.

Changing the conversation, Jean said, "I've to look for a new member to replace him. Been thinking I should give Tuomas a visit."

Moving off the rail, Will gave an understanding but somber nod. "Likewise."

Jean watched after his friend as Will moved back into the hall. A small twinge of dread grew within him. Will must have lost a member of his group, but Jean didn't say anything. Perhaps not yet. Wordlessly, he followed Will on foot.

They reached a parallel entrance to a lounge area that looked somewhat similar to the barracks. It was even complete with its own operator's desk.

Upon entering the space, memories hit Jean of the last time he was in this particular area of the Memorraw. It was a barracks, but it was for wandering hunters who went without their own permanent groups and temporarily resided in other outposts. Several hunters were about, resting in chairs, conversing and moving to and fro.

This is where Jean met Celezar six years ago. His gaze drifted to the empty? corner where he could still see the lazing form leaning back in a chair in his mind. A wide-brimmed hat hid his face from view, and Jean remembered what it was like to finally see that face for the first time. Large gem-green eyes. Freckled face. Lopsided smile that said so little but knew so much...

"Jean!"

Looking to his right, he spotted an older man approaching him with a large smile. Further behind the man was Artie who wore a small smile of his own.

"Tuomas." Jean shook the man's hand. "How's life treating you?"

Scanning Jean's face, Tuomas winced. "I should be asking _you_ that. First Augusus, then Ridridge...Something has it out for you, my friend. I'm sincerely sorry for what happened with Celezar." Before anything could be said, his shoulders rose and fell in a sad shrug. "But I know there was no way I would have known he was inhuman."

"Precisely why I still trust your advice," Jean assured, then beckoned to the space. "So, who can you recommend for me, this time?"

Tuomas nodded at Will, who returned it before moving on to look around. Tuomas then nudged his head towards Artie. "I was just telling Artie about my number one suggestion. I think you'll like him." He motioned for them to follow him down a short hall leading into a larger seating space sparsely occupied. "He's an older fellow, well-traveled and definitely knows his stuff."

"A veteran?" Artie asked in surprise.

"Yes, actually."

"What's he doing without a group?" asked Jean.

They neared a man standing in front of a bookshelf, his head lowered as he read. He wore a long black coat with green decorations on it and visible riding boots underneath leather pants.

Tuomas smiled. "You can ask him, yourself." To the man, he called, "Sarkis!"

Turning, the man closed his book. His sharp eyes took all four of them in. "Tuomas," he greeted, replacing the book on the shelf.

"Sarkis, you remember me telling you about the Lowell Hunters." Tuomas held a hand towards Jean. "This is their leader, Jean-Luc Lowell."

Both hunters nodded at one another. "Tuomas tells me you're a veteran," Jean said, getting right to the point. "What is a veteran hunter doing as a wanderer?"

A small understanding smile spread on Sarkis' face. He slightly tilted his head side to side. "I am a nomadic hunter. That is, I used to be. I migrated from Ērān where I began my time as a hunter with the Armanjani Hunters. After over a decade, I've come to the decision I wish to settle into a group again."

"Interesting. Not many true nomadic hunters, nowadays." Jean nodded at Tuomas, who gave a smile before leaving. Jean then beckoned to a nearby table with just enough chairs for all of them. Wordlessly, they moved to sit down, and Basker obediently followed. Once settled, Jean knitted his fingers together. "Tell me more about the Armanjani Hunters."

"They're a fairly new group, maybe sixty years old, but have a good reputation. They reside mainly in the northwestern region and share territory with Hayk’."

"What brought you here?"

Sarkis' eyelids slightly twitched as he stared forward, as if recalling something possibly unpleasant. After a second, he focused back on Jean. "Qadir, their leader, was killed..." He glanced away, pain overtaking his features. "Rather brutally. Long story short, nearly everyone blamed themselves for his death, including myself. I left as a sort of...penance. Looking back, I probably shouldn't have. They're doing much better, now."

Jean slowly nodded. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"Nothing but stability...and camaraderie."

"What are you most proficient in?"

Sarkis lifted his hand, revealing small black orbs with white symbols on them between his fingers. "Explosives. I'm also familiar with alchemy and use different concoctions for my bombs."

Without even looking, Jean knew Artie was impressed by this. He surely was.

"I also prefer close-quarter combat, when I can, and am proficient with guns."

"Do you have any stances on inhumans?" Jean's gaze didn't falter, staring directly at the other man. "We are not fond of inhumans. We kill them indiscriminately along with anyone who allows themselves to be swayed by them."

"Ah..." Sarkis glanced away, as if in thought.

Jean carefully watched the expressions that flitted across his face. The hazel-green eyes grew hard, and Jean knew what the answer would be.

Returning to look Jean in the eye, Sarkis made a dark smile. "I am not _fond_ of inhumans, either."

Raising a brow, Jean scanned the man's face again. Such a simple answer was offset by his expression and his smile. It did not bode well for any inhuman who crossed his path, and Jean had an inkling from the unusually large scimitar he had dangling from his belt that the man was a brutal fighter.

While nodding with appreciation, Jean asked, "Anything you think I should know? Possible handicaps, comments...?"

"None."

Glancing at the table, Jean considered this opportunity. A veteran was a rare find. He felt Artie's expectant eyes on him, and he idly rubbed his thumbs together. It would be foolish not to jump at an opportunity like this. He looked up with a nod. "You are welcome with us."

A softer smile formed on Sarkis' face. "I know of the brutal Lowell Hunters. I believe we will get along well."

"Good," said Artie. He appeared to be completely satisfied.

"What is the layout?"

"Weekly pay, boarding in the barracks, three fresh meals a day...and fourteen comrades," Jean replied with a small lopsided smile.

Inclining his head with appreciation, Sarkis saluted.

Jean readied to stand. "We leave after the meeting."

"Yes, sir."

He stopped, staring off as he recalled the last time those words were spoken to him when he was at the Memorraw. "Not 'sir'," he said automatically. Like the arrangements, he was so accustomed to saying this. "Anything but 'sir' or my last name. Jean is also fine."

Sarkis blinked but nodded. "Understood."

Standing, Jean turned and pushed his chair in, then returned to the hall with Basker and Artie behind him. He stopped once he entered, softly exhaling.

"I like him," said Artie. He was smiling contentedly, his arms crossed. "He'll fit right in. Father, Butch, Hugh...They'll like him, too."

"Absolutely," Jean said absentmindedly. Giving his head a slight shake, he looked back, watching Will near them. "What will you do for the rest of the day?" he asked his cousin.

"Not sure. I had a feeling you would want to get this out of the way, so I came here."

Humming softly, Jean looked off at nothing in particular. "It was good to get this out the way..."

There was a brief silence, then Artie patted his shoulder. "Take it easy, cousin. Isn't that why we came early?" He began to walk away.

"Amongst other reasons," Jean agreed under his breath. The moment his cousin left, Will stood beside him.

"That was fast." Will motioned towards the other area with his head. "Chose that veteran?"

"Yes."

"Lucky catch. I'm looking for someone, too."

"Who was it?" Jean asked, his tone considerate. It was always hard to lose a fellow hunter. "It wasn't—"

"No, it wasn't Hauser, and you'd know if it was Tori," Will assured. He softly huffed, slipping his hands into his pockets, and glanced away. "It was Claude."

Jean closed his eyes, recalling a rather jovial young man. "Fuck...He was so young."

"Yeah. This damn outbreak is weighing on all of us."

"My condolences, Will." Jean placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Is everyone else alright?"

"They're fine." Will looked at him. He slightly shrugged. "Sporting new scars and prosthetics, but alive, otherwise..."

Eyes tightening, Jean's hand slid down. If it wasn't for Celezar, more than a quarter of his men would have died already, including himself. His head slightly lowered as the realization somewhat dawned on him. Again.

He was suddenly nudged and looked into his friend's eyes. "As always, you can be a sensitive one, Jean," Will teased with a growing smile.

Shoving him, Jean scoffed. "Who wouldn't be?"

Holding up his hands, Will chuckled, "It's alright, it's a secret. Still, nothing to be ashamed of."

Blinking, Jean's brows furrowed. "The hell does that mean, man?"

Will nudged him again, harder, this time. He started walking away. "Figure it out. See you at the meeting!" He saluted.

Looking after him, Jean slightly tilted his head to the side with narrowed eyes. "Fucking William..." he muttered. After a moment, a small smile formed on his lips, and he shook his head.

Sudden pawing at his feet brought his attention to Basker. Green eyes looked up at him.

"Well, you've been good and patient..." He beckoned the dog to him as he walked towards the elevator. "What say we go to the city and roam a bit?"

The dog's tail wagged eagerly as he followed.

After arriving at the ground floor, Jean was greeted with the sight of open land from a large half-oval entrance further ahead. He caught the smell of horses and neared the stables to borrow one. Basker was much more excited upon seeing the greenery and Jean rode ahead, whistling for Basker to follow.

The open stretch of rolling land was enthralling to see in the early morning light. He couldn't hide the smile on his face if he wanted to as he rode the horse in a gallop across the open field. Basker, tongue hanging out and running around excitedly, seemed just as happy. The wind in their hair, the fresh, warm breeze of a spring day; it was idyllic and energizing.

Observing the dog run happily around, side-by-side with the horse or back and forth, Jean shook his head in private disbelief. If he didn't know the dog was Celezar in disguise, he would have been completely convinced he was an ordinary animal.

In the distance, other horse riders were visible, returning from the city or also taking advantage of the open land. From their distance, Jean couldn't tell who they were, but didn't bother.

A distant bark brought him out of his observation. Basker was much further away, looking down at something in the ground. A rabbit hole, possibly. Bringing the horse into a light trot, Jean gradually approached. "Bask, stop torturing the rabbits."

Basker bounded away and ran off again. Jean whistled, and the dog stopped to look back at him. Turning toward the city in the distance, Jean beckoned his head for the dog to follow. He then brought the horse into a canter. Eventually, Basker ran past at high speed. Watching after him, Jean merely shook his head again.

Eventually, the land gave away to a lightly paved road, and Jean slowed the horse into a trot. He nodded at some other riders, who were also hunters, as they passed him by. The first indicator of their entering the city was the arches displaying the sign of the city's name, Bremen. There was a stable beside an inn, and he left the horse there for a small fee. He was looking forward to going around on foot.

It was then he noticed Basker was missing but didn't think too much of it. He did glance around for the multicolored Saluki yet saw nothing more than the somewhat empty roads and passing vehicles. Placing his hands in the pockets of his pants, he continued forward.

He initially stayed to the outskirts of the city where homes, some restaurants and small shops dotted streets. The shops and restaurants were experiencing their first wave of customers. As it was springtime, he knew shops would be selling spring fruits and produce, especially once he neared the center of the city. He considered taking the time to try some later.

As he neared the central districts, he observed his surroundings. He never understood cities. Why would one build a five-story building? In the downtowns of cities, they were everywhere, nearly every other block. He preferred towns with their lightly paved roads, three-story buildings and charm. Better yet, in villages, there was dirt and grass everywhere. Most villages liked to build atop grass, and some towns purposely grew grass to replenish what was lost by traffic.

Cities were harder and not as colorful. The pavement was sturdier, oil-based, to make up for the heavy traffic. He glanced down at his boots, listening to the sound as they hit the concrete. It wasn't good for hunting. It was hard to sneak, sometimes difficult to navigate, whereas in a village and some towns, all one had to do was jump atop a low building to fix one's bearings.

"Jean."

He glanced up and to his right. Standing across the way and leaning against a wall was Celezar, flashing a cheeky smile. Like the previous times, he wore his old hunting gear, though since the woods, Jean came to realize it was all superficial. Since Celezar didn't have his swords or gun with him, Jean considered that perhaps those were real.

Jean's heart throbbed upon seeing him, one of what he resignedly admitted was happiness. His lips quirked. Letting the hybrid approach, he glanced around and lowered his hands. The few people that were about were unfamiliar, but that didn't ease his anxiety. "Are you _sure_ this is safe?"

"Aw, don't you trust me, Jeanie-boy?" Celezar sauntered beside him, then tilted his head exaggeratedly to the side. "I know what I'm doing."

Jean exhaled, then focused on Celezar when the hybrid stood in front of him. He looked up into his eyes, which twinkled with mischief, and parted his lips as he was kissed. The possible danger made the whole thing feel unusually exciting, and he had a feeling that was Celezar's intention.

"You're a devil," he murmured.

"That I am, love." Celezar chuckled, lowering a hand to entwine it with Jean's and lead him through the city.

As they walked, Jean slowly began to relax. Being around Celezar did that to him. He wasn't sure if it was intensified by Celezar's encompassing presence, his promise to keep him safe or because he merely trusted his partner, but it was comforting regardless.

After a few minutes of what initially seemed like aimless walking, he moved to Celezar's side instead of letting the hybrid pull him along. He recalled moments like this in the past, the rare times when they would both manage to get to the mainland and be together. Somehow, during those times, it was always incredible how they managed to do the things they did and not get caught. He knew now it was possible because Celezar was looking out for him.

He closed his eyes, resisting the urge to lean against his partner. This. This was one of the things that always bothered him. Despite what the world thought, his family would consider him too feminine, if they truly knew about him. He was too weak, too feminine, too—

"Love, your thoughts are worrying me."

Blinking his eyes open, Jean cut his eyes to the side to look at his partner. "I told you not to—"

"I'm not reading your thoughts." Celezar glanced at him. "I can sense it. You're berating yourself for something, something that probably isn't true or...well, I suppose it will take some time, if your thoughts are about _that_..."

Closing his mouth, Jean looked forward. Celezar was leading him to a park. He then muttered, "Why do you want to read my thoughts?"

Celezar squeezed his hand before looking off. "Many reasons. I want to be as close to you as possible, for one; it's an inhuman sort of thing. That's the mahre in me, I suppose. You could always block me out whenever you wanted. I'll respect that."

They received a few looks as they entered the park. It had hills and a few trees, pathways for walking and a nearby forest. Early morning walkers were about, and everyone gave them a considerable leeway.

Stares were the norm for hunters of any sort. Jean didn't really take notice, looking past the people as he contemplated. "I'll think about it."

"Alright..." Celezar paused. "But may I know what's on your mind, then?" His voice was tentative.

Cracking a small smile, Jean softly exhaled. This was going to be interesting. He didn't immediately answer, taking his time to observe their surroundings. There was a pond nearby. This time, he led the way to it. Celezar easily followed, and they stood before it, looking off to see what was on the other side.

He briefly closed his eyes. "For one, what do you think about Sarkis?"

"Oh." Celezar ran a hand through his hair. Some reddish locks tumbled back over his face. "He's...fine. Tuomas is good at what he does...but I'm afraid you are both in for yet another shocker..."

Jean's brows tightened as he braced himself. "What do you mean?"

"He's inhuman."

Staring forward, Jean's eye twitched. Not _again_.

"But he's legitimate. He hates inhumans to his core. The man has a head on his shoulders and is world-savvy. He has experience that none of the other men have, not even Nicholae."

Slowly, Jean deeply exhaled. He let go of Celezar's hand to rub his forehead with both. Celezar didn't seem to be bothered. "Fine... _Fine_ ," he muttered. There was nothing he could do about it. "What is he?"

"He's a descendant of a Daeva."

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Jean ran his hands down his face. "There are too many Infernals about."

Celezar slightly nodded. "Well...yes. They are one of the most prominent inhumans aside from Fey, really."

"But he isn't a threat?"

"Not at all. He's only known a human life and his adoptive parents were killed by his biological family. Having him will be a great boon."

Huffing, Jean shook his head, but relented. He remained silent for a moment, taking everything in. This would be the second time his trip to the Memorraw brought an inhuman into his group. But, by the sound of it, it would work in their favor again. That didn't make anything easier.

He then focused on the second thing he wanted to talk about. Once he calmed down from the revelation, he said, "I'm thinking of Goshe. What does it mean to become inhuman? I've encountered many people so willing to lose their humanity, and I never understood it."

"Ah..." Celezar placed his hands on his hips. "Well, there's no simple answer, love. People become inhuman for many reasons: power, love, corruption, freedom."

"People who do it for love, then." Jean deliberately kept his gaze forward.

" _That_ is fairly simple. For some breeds like mine, the only way to fully be with an inhuman lover is to become inhuman as well. It is a sign of trust, dedication; a true sign of love. Most to all inhumans understand what it is their future mates are giving up to be with them." Out the corner of his eye, Jean saw Celezar hook his thumbs on his pockets. "In those cases, there's really no difference from being human, more often than not.

"Take...for example, my sister-in-law. She became inhuman after mating with my brother. She still lives a perfectly human life, the only difference is that she's not human, anymore. She still prays, still eats the same foods—except when she's pregnant, but that's another topic—and still interacts with the same people. No one is wise to her inhumanity."

Jean raised a brow. "What about natural-born inhumans? What is it to be inhuman?" He saw Celezar scratch the back of his head and noticeably slump.

"That's...a tricky question. What does it mean to be inhuman? It means many things for different creatures. For me, it means the ability to do whatever I want, really, within very limited...well, limits. Absolute freedom. Boredom. Loneliness. Untroubled by...whatever." He gave a minute, sad hum. "I've eaten humans. It's just natural, like how humans eat animal meat."

Jean shifted but didn't say anything.

Celezar moved just slightly away. "There are inhumans who have sworn off on directly attacking humans, getting their necessary nutrition in other ways. There are Vampires who drink donated blood, for instance."

At the mention of Vampires, Jean's expression slightly darkened.

Celezar obviously noticed this, quickly changing the subject. "You wouldn't be anything like that, if you become inhuman. You would be extremely human, as far as appetite goes, if not just with a greater one. You'll probably be like my sister-in-law. You do want to remain a hunter, right?"

"Yes."

"There you go. There is a plethora of inhumans that are hunters as well. Take Sarkis...and me, for instance."

Jean glanced at him, then stared forward again. Silence ensued between them, and Jean could almost sense how it was making Celezar nervous, if he wasn't already so. Clearly, he was uncomfortable to be talking about inhumans as one himself.

Morning was peaking, and the light of the sun began to beat upon the land below. Jean turned to the sunrise, then walked wordlessly to the top of a nearby hill beside the underpass of a bridge. Celezar followed, and both hunters stood atop the hill overlooking the park.

Jean squinted from the bright light. "I don't like Vampires." When there wasn't a response, he continued, "I never did tell you about what happened seven years ago before you joined."

"No." Celezar softly cleared his throat. "But Nicholae told me. I think that vampiric creature you all came upon was a Nosferatu, which are vampiric Hallows. Rather, they are the 'true' Vampires. The lesser, more common ones are derivatives of demonic influence."

That explained things. "I reckon it was equivalent to an upper-A-Class Infernal, but that doesn't sound right..."

"Because it isn't right. The class system you are familiar with is wrong. There are six classes of Infernals."

Eye widening, Jean's head snapped into Celezar's direction.

"The classes are E, D, C, B, A, and S. The three you call C, B and A are actually E, D and C, the weakest classes." As he caught Jean's expression of horror, Celezar managed a small, apologetic smile. "I am an S-Class Infernal through my devil blood. The Entity surpasses the classes, however. There is none to classify it by."

Massaging his forehead, Jean closed his eyes. Much as he hated to admit it, the discrepancy in the classes explained much of the recent problems. That didn't make it any easier to take in.

Abruptly, Celezar pulled him to the side, taking him by his hand and bringing him off the hill until they were safely hidden underneath the bridge. At first, Jean was going to ask what was wrong, then figured someone he knew was nearby. His partner stood in front of him, seeming to be protecting him from familiar eyes as he looked up. Jean idly wondered if he could see the people walking overhead.

The tunnel was still darkened despite the sun. The trees provided just enough shade to darken the area around them, giving them a private moment, if only for a short while. Jean did nothing until Celezar was no longer stiff, then looked up at the hybrid's face. Something came to his attention, something he meant to address a while ago.

He stared, then looked into green eyes when Celezar turned his head to look down at him. "Celezar, are you alright?"

The hybrid raised a brow, which was just barely visible. "What do you mean, love?"

"I recall you looking rather sickly after the encounter with the Entity."

"Ah, yes. I'm fine..." Celezar went back to his sentry.

Jean narrowed an eye. He knew what he saw. "I don't believe you."

Celezar sighed, turning to gaze at him. He slowly reached up to take Jean by his chin, scanning his face with a pouty smile. "That hurts."

"You'll live."

"I _will_ live. Didn't I say I'd protect you?" Celezar's smile lingered, but only for a while.

Watching, Jean braced himself.

Frowning, Celezar moved his other hand to feel at Jean's neck, over the scar there, and then massaged it gently. "I damaged your throat. I blinded you," he said with a soft, self-deprecating growl. "I say I want to protect you, yet I hurt you most."

Jean's brows furrowed. "I'm alive. I'm whole. I would've died if you hadn't risked your identity to save me. So, thank you."

"But I hurt you."

"I'm not angry about my eye."

"I can heal it, you know. You won't be blind anymore."

Blinking, Jean didn't initially know how to respond to that. He made peace with the fact that he was handicapped for life. To know his full vision could return was...jarring.

Then he realized something. He softly exhaled, shaking his head. "No, Zarryel. Thank you, but I cannot. What sort of story could I come up with?"

His expression worsening, Celezar took his hand back to gaze upon both. Before Jean's eyes, his nails turned black before becoming claws. "I...know what you're giving up and risking being with me. I can't imagine how much strife this has caused you...and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything." He clenched his jaw to angrily speak through his teeth, "I wish there was some way I could become human, or some way I could lessen your pain—"

"Enough of that." Jean's eyes were wide in shock. "Where is this coming from? I made my decision and that is so. I just...need some time before I take the plunge."

Olive eyes looked into his, glassy with tears. What little light there was underneath the bridge made them shine even more. In that look alone, Jean could discern so much. His words struck a chord, astounding his partner with the knowledge he would be willing to give up his humanity for him.

Taking Jean's hands into his clawed ones, Celezar kissed them, then kissed the scarred, blind eye. His expression completely softening, Jean gently rubbed his head against his partner's and closed his eyes. He thought back on the previous hunt and knew what his fate could be. But in the moment, he wasn't thinking about that.

He inhaled the fragrant, familiar scent: earth and herbs. The awareness of who he was with...The smell, the warmth, the presence that now seemed to envelop him protectively; it was all Celezar. It all meant so much, now.

It meant everything.


	12. Shaken and Stirred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting at the Memorraw finally commences.

All throughout his two days at the Memorraw leading up to the meeting, Jean spent most of his time "training" Basker. An overall quiet, patient dog, Basker was liked by Jean's friends and acquaintances alike. As Jean didn't quite know how to train a dog, he enlisted help from Will, who was far more familiar with them than he was. Obviously, Basker was praised for how "naturally" skilled he was.

Jean liked to cover his tracks.

Despite all the people who arrived at the outpost, there was one particular man Jean didn't so much as catch a glimpse of: Caden, the man who organized the meeting. Jean wanted to think it was a bit strange, but considering the man's high position, perhaps it wasn't.

The outpost was already lively with activity when Jean awoke. Night guards were switching with day guards, breakfast would be ready in minutes and there had been much talk about what would be discussed during the meeting.

Eyeing the disk recordings from Artie, Hugh and Butch's cameras atop a shelf, Jean huffed softly to himself. His previous attempts to find Caden resulted in failures. If he could contact him, he could inform the man of his offer to show the footage during the meeting. It was something every hunter needed to see, and he imagined Caden would even want a copy of it, which Jean could provide.

If only he could find the damned man.

Letting it go for the moment, he looked at the body lying beside him on the bed. Celezar slept soundlessly, unbreathing and still as the dead. Jean had learned the hybrid was more hallow than devil or mahre, and so he didn't breathe when he was truly sleeping, as was the case for hallows. Celezar hadn't explicitly expressed a desire to somehow attend the meeting, causing Jean to internally war between waking his partner or letting him sleep.

Sliding off his side of the bed, he moved to sit on the opposite and sat adjacent to him. Gently, he combed his fingers through the slightly curled auburn locks. Since arriving at the Memorraw, he had truly contemplated his decision to become inhuman.

He wanted to. Despite everything, to a frightening degree, he truly found himself wanting to.

It was all because of Celezar. Everything about him was true, believable, plausible, and no different from what Jean already knew about him. He was coming to realize this meant there were others like Celezar, that other inhumans could be just as trustworthy and innocent. Not all of them deserved to die; there were many like Sarkis, even. It was so simple to think about, believe and understand, now. It bothered him a bit. Just some days ago, he was of a merciless mindset, willing and wanting to kill all inhumans.

Now, the only thing preventing him from succumbing to his new desires was fear. Fear of the unknown future it would produce, fear from memories and ingrained teachings.

Sighing with some sadness, he admired Celezar for a bit, then leaned down and gave the hybrid a kiss atop his temple. There wasn't so much as a twitch made in response. Slipping from the bed, he moved to the bathroom to take a shower.

While washing up, he realized his scar was almost completely healed, if not so. It wasn't as puffy nor as raised as it was before he left Isle Veni. As he ran a hand over it, it felt more like fresh skin but wasn't as soft. His left eye was open, and he imagined his quick healing was because of Celezar. That didn't bother him, anymore. It helped that even his men knew Celezar was likely if not the absolute reason it was happening.

After exiting the shower and dressing, he watched his partner sleep for a moment more, then took the disk and a folder before leaving for breakfast.

The mess hall was located on the second floor at the near-middle of the outpost. Fortunately, there were transporters located throughout it. After exiting the barracks, he found one with an empty seat and people-watched the rest of the way.

Several familiar faces were about. He acknowledged them all and they returned the gestures. Over the outpost's intercom, breakfast was announced to start. He was sure the mess hall wouldn't be nearly as overwhelmed as it appeared it would be; he was certain many of those who were already walking to other destinations had already eaten. Those who lived at the outpost likely ate separately or even earlier than the guests.

"Ah, Jean!"

He came out of his thoughts, noticing a friendly face nearing the transporter, Jermaine, leader of the Hancock Hunters. He gave a smile and took his friend's hand, helping to bring him onto the moving vehicle.

Sitting beside him, Jermaine looked around. "Been here for a day and I haven't seen Madeleine or Eirene anywhere. You?"

"No. Haven't seen Holloway, either." Jean followed his friend's gaze.

Snorting, Jermaine rolled his eyes towards him. " _No one_ has seen Holloway or the Licht sisters 'round."

Jean shook his head and looked forward. "Like they aren't even here."

"Precisely."

When they arrived on the appropriate floor at the wide entrance to the cafeteria, smells of breakfast wafted strongly in the air. Breakfast was served in an efficient cafeteria-style but was fresh and well-made. The usual suspects—eggs, bacon, pancakes, waffles, pastries—were all present, along with several variations of breakfast foods from different nationalities.

After securing breakfast, Jean and Jermaine looked for free spots. Jean surveyed the area carefully. He spotted two familiar men sitting at a fully occupied table. They were Alister Crowley and his second-in-command Clancy, friendly hunters from an outlying island. They didn't seem to notice him, so Jean continued looking.

Not too long after, he spotted two more people, a man and a woman, dressed in hunter clothes modified to match their Clovure tribe's traditional garb. They were Megedagik, the newly-appointed hunter of the Wisk Hunters, and Alsoomse, his second-in-command. They also didn't seem to notice Jean, but his expression wilted upon seeing them.

It didn't take too long while slowly walking around before he noticed someone waving at him. He lightly elbowed Jermaine, motioning to the spot with his head.

At a long table almost completely occupied, three women and a man sat at the near-end. They scooted over just enough, allowing space for Jean and Jermaine. Glad to see them, all fellow hunter leaders and their seconds-in-command, Jean nodded his head towards them as he sat. He turned on his microphone before speaking. "Was just thinking of you all."

Winces went around the table at the sound of his voice, but they quickly recovered. Madeleine, the woman next to him, scoffed. "Sure, you were." She beckoned to the woman across from her. "You barely ever think of Eirene."

At the mention of the masked woman beside Jermaine, Jean looked at her. "Admittedly...yes?"

Eirene dismissively waved a hand, though the man next to her frowned. "I'd rather people not notice me."

"You know," Jermaine said with a high inflection, "being quiet can bring more attention to you."

She nudged her head at Jean. "Not in his case."

Amused scoffs went around, including from Jean himself. "Anyway, how are you four?" he asked, cutting into his food—which mostly comprised of meats.

Various sounds of passable temperaments were made. Before there was an answer, Artie sat at the end of the little group beside Eirene's second-in-command Tsukasa. He gave everyone a nod of greeting before beginning to eat.

"We were just talking about the new norm: The Infernal problem," said Madeleine. Her fingers tapped the table. "We've all had close calls, at least for us here, but we can't say the same for others. It's pretty awful, as you can imagine."

"Don't have to imagine." Jean raised his head to look at them and motioned towards Artie. "We've dealt with some shit since the very beginning, on our side."

Grim faces spread around the table. "I've been rather fortunate," Eirene confessed, her visible brows creased. "My group has only recently had problems; I'd say within the past few days. I'm aware that at most other locations, the rise in activity happened almost simultaneously."

"Gustel did say that," said Madeleine, nodding at her companion beside her.

"Yes," Gustel hummed, "it seems as though something _awoke_ the Infernals, as you said, almost all at once. I've communicated with other technicians and they all pretty much theorize the same idea."

"My men did suggest that," Jean added, recalling his conversation before he left the Cellar.

"As did mine." Eirene shook her head with a huff before looking at her smoothie. "That's a terrorizing thought."

"It was probably that devil," Artie interjected. He didn't look up from his plate.

A short silence settled at their end of the table. Madeleine pursed her lips, Gustel glanced down. Tsukasa gave a solemn nod and Eirene softly exhaled. Jean merely closed his eyes for a moment.

Finally, Tsukasa murmured, "No doubt, Holloway's going to say something about that at the meeting. There's little else to talk about." As everyone roused from their momentary subdued stupor, their eyes looked at him. He glanced around the table at them. "It's not as if we all don't know what's going on. Yes, it's widespread. Yes, we're rapidly losing people. Yes, we're overwhelmed. But honestly, is it really worthy of a meeting instead of a phone conference?"

"Actually," Jean interjected, reaching into his inner breast pocket to take out the disk, "I've to show everyone some footage of that incident. It's good timing for us to gather."

Tsukasa's eyes widened and scanned the item. "Ah..."

As more sounds of shock and surprise floated about, Jean grumbled, "Which is why I've been looking for that bastard Holloway." He tucked the disk away and glared around the mess hall.

More scoffs. "Good luck," said Madeleine as she turned to her food. "We haven't seen him once. Not even in passing."

"I think I've seen some of his men slinking about," Tsukasa admitted. "Dangerous fellows, they are..."

Jean looked at him. "Someone of his men?" The awareness dawned on him that, in eight years, he never so much as considered Caden's group. It was a strangely sobering realization.

Jermaine pointed his fork towards something. "See those two over there?"

They each turned towards the direction he was pointing at, which was behind Madeleine, Jean and Gustel. Near a wall, talking to one another, were two men. One was dressed in all black and had slick black hair, giving him a very pale complexion with his already light skin. He was grinning languidly with his hands behind his back, leering at everyone around the mess hall with hooded eyes. The man near him was older and also had black hair, but it was far longer.

"What about them?" asked Tsukasa.

"Never seen them before," added Eirene.

"Likewise." Jean looked confused, and his sentiment was shared with everyone except Madeleine and Gustel.

Putting down his fork, Jermaine explained, "I've been told those are Holloway's men. Raven and Nigel, I hear they're called. Raven's the older one, Nigel's the inky one. Nigel's supposed to be Holloway's second-in-command."

Raising a brow, Jean opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a feminine voice over the intercom that echoed, " _All guests, please head to the meeting hall in twenty minutes_."

Artie sighed. "Well, it's about time."

Jean leaned back, eyes slanted. "Sounds like you're ready to return home."

"I am. This place is massive, yet manages to seem so...claustrophobic, at times."

The knowledge of being within a mountain probably brought about such a thought, Jean considered. He hummed in understanding and finished eating. If he was being honest, he was also looking forward to going back home. Perhaps it was a good sign. As willing as he had been to leave Isle Veni, it must have meant his days "off" were worth it.

Before Holloway's men disappeared, he approached them after eating. As he neared, the older man took notice. "You two Holloway's men?" he asked, stopping a respectful distance from them.

The man nodded, whereas his grinning companion merely scanned him. "Yes."

"Name's Jean. Jean-Luc Lowell. I've been trying to get into contact with Holloway for a while. I've something to give him, something I think he might want to show during the meeting."

The inky one tilted his head to the side. "What is it?"

Reaching into a large inside pocket of his coat, Jean took out a folder and then the oblong disk held in a sleeve. "My men and I encountered the devil and an unidentifiable creature. This is a report of it and a recording of the footage and audio we could recover."

Both men's expressions changed to ones of interest in varying degrees. "Lowell, you said? Pleased to meet you." The older man nodded and said, "Raven Lazaroff. We'll give it to him."

Returning the nod with gratitude, Jean handed the item to him. "Much appreciated."

"Are you the one whose group the Cap'n used to be part of?" asked the still-grinning man, pointing at him with a slender finger.

Jean blinked, observing the man as he was observed back. "Yes."

"What happened to your face?"

Raven briefly closed his eyes with a long-suffering sigh. "Nigel."

Nigel's grin somehow grew even wider, and he never took his eyes off Jean. "The man doesn't have to answer. I'm only curious."

"It's a long story. That's my answer." Giving another look of thanks to Raven, Jean eyed Nigel before turning around and walked back to his friends.

A low, amused chuckle was made behind him, rubbing him the wrong way. But he returned to his companions who stood ready leave for the meeting room. Such a strange man Caden chose as his second-in-command.

He and his friends followed several others to an elevator within walking distance. Once they arrived on a story just above the ground floor, they continued after the crowd. The walls, like most of the others, were rocky, and the entrance was a nearly ceiling-high doorway with two guards beside it. Passing through revealed a large space that reminded Jean of the Plight outpost in Connecticut.

Rock-like ledges emerged from the walls leading from passageways all along them and lined with rails. Like everything in the Memorraw, the room had been set up especially for the guests with a massive oval table made from smaller ones at the center of the room. A large projector screen was lowered on one end of the room with men from a higher point on the opposite side readying a projector.

As they filled in, they were handed microphone headsets, one of which Jean declined after pointing to his earpiece. His eyes swept around for a sign of Caden. Upon realizing he was looking for him when there was no longer a reason to, he instead looked around for the sake of observation. There were exits at the four corners of the room, a detail he was glad to have noticed. Some ledges, along with the passageways behind them, had stairs at their rights and lefts for one to walk up on. Finally, the ceiling was massive, with a large dome light in its center.

They sat down and waited. Jean looked around the table. There were many hunters from all of Clovure's subcountries and some outlying islands, such as Alister's and Jean's. Some feet away from Jean sat Will and his second-in-command Brønnild. So many hunters, so many faces; Jean was impressed so many if not all had come out at Caden's call. One would hope they would, considering the reason for the conference.

Jean felt a gaze boring into him but didn't so much as passively acknowledge it. He knew who it was. Ordell Frye, leader of the Frye Hunters, was from an old family of magic-users like the Lowells. All Jean knew was that their families hated one another and was ordered since childhood never to engage in conversation with them. So, he never did.

But, now that he was older, he wondered.

Within a few minutes, the natural low drone of voices died down as the last of the hunters entered the room to sit beside their respective seconds-in-command. From one of the exits nearer to the projector, two identical women entered, and Jean recognized them as the sister duo who were the leaders of the Licht Hunters, Inez and Cher. Several of the Licht men and women were dispersed around the room, watching from ledges or from along the walls.

Behind the women, a tall, muscular bronze-haired man swiftly entered. He didn't look happy in the slightest. This was Caden Holloway, leader of the government branch of inhuman hunters. As the women moved to sit down in two of the last three chairs, he remained standing beside the projector with a remote in his hand.

"Can everyone hear me?" he asked, his voice augmented by a headset microphone as well.

There were nods all around. His voice was loud and commanding, carrying well in the room despite its size. It helped that everyone was perfectly quiet.

"Good, I'll get right to it. Over the past several days, we've all encountered a spike in inhuman activity, specifically Infernal. Normally, that wouldn't exactly be a problem, as it's happened before. Usually, it's caused by something. In this case, however, whatever seems to be causing it is none other than a devil. I'm aware some of you have even seen this creature at a distance."

There were soft murmurs of agreement around the table.

He nodded. "No one has directly encountered this legendary creature..." He looked at Jean. "Except one group."

Louder murmurs emitted from the table, ones of disbelief and concern.

Jean stared back into Caden's brown eyes, and the man beckoned him to approach. When he stood, the room became completely silent. He moved to stand beside Caden, who motioned to him.

"You have the floor," he said.

With a nod, Jean stepped forward, amplifying his microphone before speaking. "Along with the devil seems to be a long-limbed creature of unidentifiable origin. My men and I encountered both creatures five? days ago in the Ridridge District of Fayette, Narrapansett. We responded to the Wisk Hunters' distress call." He nodded towards Megedagik.

The man nodded back, deep pain in his dark eyes and in the eyes of Alsoomse beside him.

Jean glanced at Caden. "I had footage..."

Caden pressed a button on the remote in his hand and the lights  dimmed just enough for the white projector screen to be clearer, before handing it to Jean. The remote had simple buttons: stop, play, fast-forward, rewind, and assorted options. For the footage, the video ones would be enough. Caden moved to sit beside Inez, and Jean slightly shifted aside before pressing play.

The video was an edited mix of content from both the drones and the men's cameras. It started from Dragonfly-C's view of the devil within the apartment. "Here, we though the creature was a demon," Jean explained, briefly pausing the video at the zoomed-in infrared view were the devil's horns could be seen. After a second, he pressed play again.

The video transitioned to a short slide-show of the carnage and destruction shown from Butch, Artie and Hugh's cameras. There were some low murmurs. Anyone would think more than one Infernal did such acts. Then the footage continued, following Hugh's view behind Artie and beside Butch as they eventually made their way to the residential area. The sudden shift in the men's demeanors caught everyone's attention, from what Jean saw out the corner of his eye. The men were so scared, so uneasy. But there was nothing to see, nothing to hear.

The screen halted as all three men froze in place. The unsaid signal of sensing something ahead was made, and the view turned to the apartment with the blood trail leading to it. Artie turned around and signaled he was going to turn back to spray the sigil on the ground some distance away. Following this, the screen split into three, showing narrowed views of what was happening via the three cameras.

In the footage, Artie was murmuring softly as he sprayed the sigil, glancing about nervously. Hugh and Butch kept their focus on the apartment, as if sure whatever it was they were evidently sensing was coming from it.

The present Artie wasn't looking at the screen at all.

"Around this time," Jean explained during the brief silence, "the mist you'll see later started approaching them from the opposite side of the district where I was with the others."

On cue, the footage showed Domien crawling from out of a low window of the apartment, only to growl and immediately approach the men on his hind legs. Shouting out in horror, they opened fire. Tension grew in the room as everyone watched, growing concerned. The shaking camera was steadied a bit in the edited footage, allowing them to see the devil's form more clearly. A soft swear emitted from someone, and from his peripheral, Jean saw Caden run a hand over his mouth.

"Unreal," he murmured.

The video continued, and once Jean heard his voice over the radio telling his men to fall back, he looked away from the screen. He was already starting to feel sick as he recalled what was soon to follow in the video. Noticing Artie seemed to be feeling the same, his lips tightened in sympathy.

Jean then heard Hugh's cry in the video and watched many sitting bodies snap back in shock, inevitably when Hobboilen appeared in the mist. But what truly caught his attention was how disturbed everyone looked. Every single one of them were visibly uneasy. They shifted, swallowed, looked away with wide eyes, stared in horror, broke out into sweats. Initially, Jean didn't understand why, but then he recalled what Nicholae said about what happened when he saw the footage.

Celezar had mentioned the natural fear hallows and devils emitted. The only true answer to what was happening was that the fear Hobboilen emitted was powerful enough to transmit through video as well. It was a terrifying thought.

When the screen darkened and only audio was heard, they listened to the noise when the men teleported back to the others, only for the tall being to chase after them. Much of it was impossible to make out, until the sudden, thunderous thud as the third creature arrived and gave a roar that caused audio to end.

When the audio and video ended, eyes immediately fell on Jean. Before anything was said, he already had a hand raised as he moved to stand before the black screen. "After the audio failed," he explained, "the tall creature appeared back where the other men and I were. It was also where the three who directly encountered the devil teleported to. I tried to attack the tall one using some of the strongest magic I have. It didn't work. My magic was negated by a mere glance. My three men were unconscious when they arrived, and then a third creature appeared which caused the booming noise and the audio to cut. We do not recall what that third creature was.

"When the tall creature came before us...it was overwhelming, destroying me from the inside. I could feel my mind slowly wither away. It is intelligent; I could clearly sense it's...appreciation for my abilities. We have no idea why it appeared, why it didn't kill us, let alone why the third creature appeared, either," he lied, turning off the projector and raising the lights.

He pressed a button to raise the projector, and then moved to place the remote on the table before sitting down between Artie and an acquaintance, who briefly placed a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded at him, then they all looked at Caden as he steepled his hands over the table with a deep inhale. Beside him sat Nigel, who was looking as disturbed as everyone else without his signature grin.

Caden cleared his throat before speaking. "From the concentrated efforts of our technicians and veterans, we can safely concede that the devil is causing the spike in Infernal activity. Possibly, even, the long-limbed creature. Whatever the hell said creature is, it may be working with the devil." He glanced at his fellow hunters. "I've gathered everyone here because we must consider what to do against these...new horrors."

There was a short bout of silence as everyone gathered themselves. Throats cleared, eyes blinked rapidly, glances were exchanged as everyone realized they had all reacted the same way upon seeing the creature in the video.

"Have you any ideas?" a man finally asked, and his question was met with several sounds of agreement.

Caden paused momentarily before nodding. "The Licht sisters and I have spoken about it, but we wish to deliberate with you all, first."

Another short moment of quiet descended the group. Some hunters murmured to one another, others seemed to gather their thoughts. It wasn't questioned. From Jean's point of view, he figured everyone was recovering from the shock of seeing the Entity.

Finally, someone spoke. "I've an idea. A very _logical_ idea," said Hamza Akhdar, leader of the Akhdar Hunters. "But more than half of you won't like it."

Eyes around the table narrowed. "If it has anything to do with _inhumans_ ," spat a woman, "indeed, we want nothing to do with it."

Another woman slapped her hand on the table in anger. "There has to be another way without resorting to inhuman aid. _Aid!_ The words are disgusting even to say!"

"What else do you suggest?" asked a different hunter. " _Is_ there anything else to suggest?"

"Plenty!"

"Such as?" Jean's hoarse voice brought abrupt attention to himself. His gaze was calm and curious. "This is a devil, not some offhanded Demon Noble, must I remind you."

"And then there's that _thing_ with it," added a man. He shuddered.

Some sounds of similar sentiment were made. "And then there's _that_ thing," a woman repeated. "What can we humans possibly do against that?"

A woman who spoke earlier narrowed her eyes. "My group is _not_ dealing with inhumans."

"Only because you are an absolute fool." The young hunter leader Rowan Savage brought all attention to them. They sat with crossed arms while leaning back in their chair, a stern expression upon their face. "If you all think _logically_ —as Akhdar so wonderfully enunciated—you'll see we have little other choice. That's it. There's nothing more to think about. End of discussion."

"Absolutely not." Aaron Reznick, a man with a grim expression, pointed towards them. "Listen, Savage, we'll not have your flippant nonsense at a time like _this_. Magical arts and calculated measures are key to winning this invasion, just as they did 2000 years ago."

Jermaine raised a brow. "Let's...not call it an invasion. And I have to mention not every hunter group is as fortunately experienced as yours."

"Yes," added the mature hunter leader Zueiry Guzmán. She was staring deliberately at Aaron with a slightly displeased tilt to her lips. "Or are you forgetting all of the lives that have been lost to both these monsters?"

Jean briefly closed his eyes. He never did like Aaron, the arrogant man. "Nor are many fortunate to have magical arts. That is a dying practice, at least in Clovuria."

"Not so much in the south." All eyes went to Cheveyo, the chief of the revered Echo Hunters. The building dissension paused as he spoke. His calm, keen eyes cut deeply into those he looked at, which included Aaron. He then beckoned towards several other hunters. "Several of my fellow Southwest hunters have spoken of this. We have tried to devise a spiritual way to awaken the potential for using magic in some bloodlines with magical connections. It is not impossible to bring the practice back."

Murmurs of interest and awe resounded. However, a loud snort came from one man. "Yes, that's all well and good, but how's about the _right here and now_ , dammit? I imagine that process will take fucking forever."

Several baffled glares were thrown at the man, but he didn't seem to care.

"Listen, man," growled Will, boring a hole into him, "at least _someone_ is trying to help. What have you to bring to this quite fine and literal table, eh?"

Before the man could retort, another young hunter leader, Bon-hwa Kwon, waved his hand dismissively towards him. "Fact of the matter is, while I thank you, Echo, and truly hope you succeed, we do need an immediate counter to what is happening."

Appreciating his respect and reason, Cheveyo nodded his head. "Indeed." To everyone, he announced, "I, too, suggest we take the aid of inhumans who would be willing to give it."

"And exactly which amongst them would do that?" balked Madeleine. "We hunt them for a living, as our creed! I imagine they would be afraid some of us would immediately turn on them after using them, and I wouldn't blame them as there are plenty here who would gladly do so!"

Some eyes darted at certain hunters at the table, including Jean. He understood completely. His family's brutality was well-known.

"I have to agree with Crane." Jermaine nodded towards Madeleine. "Why would any inhuman help us?"

"Because their lives are in danger as well," reasoned Rowan while shaking their head. At the scoffs and sounds of contempt, they sighed, "It's actually not so hard to believe."

Alister nodded, gazing off as if recalling something. "Many inhuman communities are suffering from this. They have already begun to aid my group."

"Blasphemy," said Will, and several agreements were made to this sentiment.

Ordell slapped his hands on the table. "This meeting is about the _devil_ and the unknown creature, not about profane associations with inhumans!"

"For the love of Creation!" said a woman while throwing up her hands. "Lowell and Savage made all the points! We have no immediate magical aid and if there are inhumans in our situation, they obviously _will_ help us!"

"Only because of blasphemers like _you two!_ " Marion Fairchild, leader of the Fairchild Hunters, shouted back while pointing at Alister and Hamza. "And only _with_ blasphemers like you! You have these 'connections' and 'sympathize' with them!"

Jean rubbed one of his temples. "Must I remind everyone the question of why said inhumans would want to aid us 'unfortunate' non-sympathetic hunters was never answered?"

Hamza seemed to be feeling the same, his eyes closed and rubbing them with one hand. "The answer is that we could likely protect the whole country if we as a collective overcame our prejudice and hate for inhumans."

"The end," said Rowan, rolling their eyes. "We saved Clovuria."

Will narrowed his eyes dangerously at them along with Aaron. "Savage, I fucking swear—"

"Enough, Richardson," a woman snapped at him. "Focus!"

A hunter leader named Euphemia Law also rubbed her eyes, then looked up at them tiredly. "Yes, but what would we lose in the process?" she asked, looking pleadingly around the table. "Inhumans. They taint people. Why would we risk corruption for this?"

"Not every inhuman corrupts," Rowan sighed. They looked as if they were about ready to get up and leave, tired of the nonsense. "We all know this. Especially the more powerful ones, if specifically the more powerful ones, which are the ones we would be getting help from. _Obviously_ ," they harshly sneered.

"Exactly." Hamza leaned forward. "Listen, in my territory, there is someone who might be powerful enough to defeat a devil—at the very _least_ the devil." There was a short, shocked silence before some murmurs rose. Continuing, he said, "His name is Antonio, an inhuman hunter, who is also part-devil—"

"What the _FUCK_?!" shouted Will, his loud voice booming over the other shouts of shock and surprise. He seemed ready to stand up and fight against the blasphemy. "A part-devil? And you _know them?_ Have you lost your mind, man?!"

"If this conversation continues," Aaron shouted across the table while pointing at Hamza, "I'm leaving!"

"Good! Your adnuntor ass has no place here, Reznick!" a man shouted at him. This only caused an even louder cacophony to arise at the derogatory slur.

Exhaling deeply, becoming profoundly irritated, Jean growled out, "Can we please focus?" His voice was just high enough over the others, but that meant nothing as they continued."

"Oh, please, Lowell," scoffed Rowan with a lazy smirk. "Focus on what? This is a dead and done conversation. I'm with Aaron for once, I'm ready to leave."

Aaron practically stood. "Why you—"

Jean sat back and exhaled deeply as the cacophony went on. This was getting them nowhere. He spotted Caden, who was interestingly sitting with his eyes closed and was eerily quiet. Beside him, Nigel was also quiet, leaning back in his chair with that damned, languid smile of his and slanted eyes as he watched the chaos.

The Licht sisters, while they didn't partake in the conversation, were softly conversing with one another as they observed. Every now and then, Inez would whisper something to Caden and he would nod or shake his head in response.

"We are all furthermore forgetting something!" said Madeleine, who looked positively irate. "What about the other creature?"

"Yes, if it is mated to the devil, we cannot merely kill the devil first, and all the more so if it is pregnant," said Cheveyo. "We must, unfortunately, take out this far more powerful creature first. Would a half-devil be enough?" he asked Hamza.

Surprisingly, Hamza gave a nonchalant shrug. "Considering this half-devil has killed children of the Inferno Rulers, it is a possibility."

An almost collective gasp of horror struck the room. Jean's head snapped over into Hamza's direction with terror. Such a powerful creature this friend of his was—and a _half_ -devil at that!

With a sound of exhausted outrage, Will completely sat down, clearly unable to believe what he heard.

Almost frighteningly, Caden rose a brow of interest at this revelation.

As words of awe, horror, and outrage floated about, Jean glanced away. Celezar was a hybrid of three extremely powerful creatures, including devil. If even he could not defeat Hobboilen, this half-devil would be of no use, even if he did kill children of Inferno Rulers. Just as he began to speak, Zueiry interjected him.

"Much as I wish I could believe your friend could help us," she said to Hamza, "I do not believe one part-devil would be enough." She seemed to be on the same mental wavelength as Jean.

Hamza sighed. "Yes, that is a possibility."

"A possibility?" Megedagik was so tired, so sad. "We need more than a possibility. I've lost so many people from this outbreak."

"Yes," said another man who looked just as exhausted. "The Southwest has been doing its damnedest to keep news of the outbreak quiet, but we're losing the battle. At best, people believe a homicidal cult are going about. At worst, people do believe it is the work of something paranormal and/or supernatural."

The man's words were backed up by other Southwestern hunters and seemed to quell some of the shouting and screaming, but not all of it.

Ordell glared about. "Yes. I believe humans can still win this. I think it's time we let the masses know of inhumans."

While several people nodded in half or complete agreement, the outrage swelled once more.

"Are you fucking out of your mind?" Jermaine demanded, palms held up on the table in disbelief.

A woman pounded the table. "How would you expect us to control something like that?!"

"What else that is not blasphemous do you suggest?" Will shouted back, looking up from his hands.

"Will! Tell me you're not for this!" exclaimed a fellow South Central hunter leader.

"No magic, no might—what do _you_ suggest, then?"

"Uh, 'lo?" said Rowan, waving a hand at him. "Inhumans? Help us?"

As Will covered his face with his hand, separate arguments began to erupt at the table, several at a time. While most of the seconds-in-command had wisely kept quiet, they did involve themselves in these other clamors with their leaders.

"Did ANYONE think that maybe there are multiple A-Class Infernals that can help _collectively_?" Alister said, making a rare scene of raising his voice. "We have to at least try!"

"For the last time!" Will shouted, backed up by Aaron, Ordell and several others. "NO!"

Alister shook his head and gave up, sitting back in his chair.

"Does anyone have any better ideas?" a hunter snidely demanded.

"Do we have any other choices?" pled another.

Sitting back with her arms crossed, Zueiry concluded, "I'll do what I have to do to keep my region safe, whether my fellow Southwest hunters agree or not."

"To hell with you, then," said another woman.

Beside her, Zueiry's second-in-command shot the woman a threatening glare. It would have been enough to kill a lesser person. "Excuse me?"

Just as things looked as if they would escalate to dangerous degrees, Jean and several others saw the gun pull out but weren't quick enough to do something about it.

The loud gunshot froze everyone in place, eyes wide as they turned towards the source. Nigel, this time brandishing a dangerously irate grin, sat comfortably in his chair, a smoking black revolver in his raised right hand. When all eyes were on him, the table successfully quiet and people were sitting again, he lowered his hand and tilted his head to the side. "Shut it the fuck up and listen, children."

Rightfully insulted, teeth were clenched and soft sounds of indignation were made. The sound of the bullet casing? clattering on the floor was the only sound for some moments. Gazes steadily focused on the Licht sisters and Caden.

"We are here to brainstorm," said Cher, her expression cool. "Do not start threatening each other. For all we know, that's just another thing this devil wants."

Nodding, Inez waved a hand. "We are here to cooperate, to commiserate, to conceptualize. Nothing is set in stone. Nothing is definitely happening."

"I disagree," said Hamza. "I'm keeping my territory safe any way I must."

Several others quietly agreed.

Caden's eyes snapped open and he glared at them. "Shut... ** _up_** ," he barked, his voice erupting with abated anger.

Everyone could see Hamza and some others were going to say something, but figured that wasn't the best idea, for the moment.

Closing his eyes again, Caden continued in a low voice, "We are thus far fortunate to have only directly encountered the devil and its probable mate once. A harbinger for the tall one is mist, so everyone should note that."

Soft murmurs were made at this, but Caden didn't seem to mind.

"There is even a possibility the creature is a new type of Infernal or Eldritch creature—and Creator or whatever deities you believe in save us all if that is so. Therefore," he said, slowly standing up to glare openly at every one of them, "we have to keep our regions in _constant_. _Contact_. With one another. None of this anti-social _shit_ you're all so fond of. Whether you like it or not, we're in this together, or get the fuck out the country."

For several seconds, no one said anything. Like children, they were rightfully chastened. Gaze lowering, Jean felt Caden's stare drill into him. The worst part about their chastising was how Caden was telling the truth. They didn't communicate with each other as often as they should have.

"On that note, actually," said Cher, "word was received that some major activity in the eastern countries has died down. They are more prepared to deal with such rise in Infernal activity, so we can all learn from them."

Rowan gazed idly at their fingers. "They do enlist help from inhumans."

"You should know," someone muttered.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" hissed the man beside Rowan.

His head snapping into their direction, Caden banged his hands on the table and growled, "I don't fucking care _how_ anyone protects the country, just so long as you keep your goddamned wits about you! I'm all for using inhumans as weapons." He glared at Rowan and several others. His gaze then turned to linger on Hamza, and the man scowled back. Standing upright, Caden snapped his fingers. "Let me show you."

Seconds after he spoke, a tall, dark figure appeared hunched behind him, as if from out of thin air. Glowing red eyes leered from the inner darkness of a hood, causing Jean along with nearly everyone to gasp and fish for or draw their guns.

Without prompt, the figure's head titled sharply to the side with an alarming _CRACK_ , and in the same second, those who drew their guns hissed and dropped them. The metal was steaming, as if their owners themselves were inhumans who had touched blessed silver. Wary, alarmed eyes looked up towards Caden as he emitted a short laugh.

He gave the figure's broad shoulder a pat. "Thank you, Sylvestar." To his audience, he explained, "Sylvestar here is an inhuman. Wasn't born that way; he was bitten by some sort of vampiric creature."

In his chair, Jean went stiff.

Moving around the table, hands behind his back, Caden met the eyes that turned aghast gazes onto him. "If you want to have inhumans help you, find some way to tame them. They merely have to be controlled. Find their weakness. Subjugate them. It's not impossible."

Lips pursed, and soft scoffs of outrage were made, but no one said anything.

Closing his eyes, Caden stopped behind Artie and Jean, who stiffened even more. Caden then moved away, continuing his little walk. "By the way, I hope, for the remainder of the day, you all remember the reason why you're here, which is to bond." His eyes opened. "Do your damned jobs and create some."

All was silent, all was quelled. By the time Caden returned to sit behind his chair, Sylvestar's large figure had slunk backward to vanish eerily into the ether. Then, looking at them, a dangerously kind smile spread on Caden's face.

"Dismissed."


	13. Only Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the meeting, Jean speaks to a certain someone and finally makes his decision.

The meeting room steadily cleared out. Some of the hunters furiously stormed away, fumbling with their guns or taking their time in deep contemplation, heads lowered and murmuring with others. A handful appeared to be worried and disturbed. Jean was amongst the latter, and he passed through the threshold with Artie close behind him.

"That was an experience I never want to have again," his cousin said just loud enough for him to hear while returning his headset.

Thinking he was talking about the meeting, Jean began to nod. Then he realized Artie was likely talking about the footage. He turned his microphone down to a lower setting. "Yeah. It was...unpleasant."

He moved to sit at the lounge area further ahead of him parallel to the entrance of the meeting room. Artie stood near, folding his arms while watching the people enter the halls. Much was brewing in Jean's mind. It was, like the meeting, cacophonic, a discordance that would not shut up.

Unsurprisingly, the main reason for the meeting wasn't what was bothering him, nor was it the footage or the argument. Running through his mind were thoughts on Caden's words. Using inhumans; how could he possibly do such a thing? It only conjured up thoughts about Celezar, about what he desired— _wanted_ —to do and how it was everything he was told not to do.

He would never _use_ Celezar, no. Never. He doubted he could even if he wanted to. Whatever Sylvestar was, Jean was certain it wasn't the same calibre as Celezar.

Mentally regrouping, he looked up. "I guess we can stay an extra day. Do some 'bonding'."

Artie scoffed in some semblance of agreement while walking away. "I'm going to the city. Need to walk this off."

Jean watched after him until he disappeared down the left hall. He then caught the two figures approaching him out of his peripheral and allowed the approach.

Will huffed with Brønnild beside him doing much of the same. "Bunch of horseshit," he griped.

"Don't bring me into your grumblings, Will," Jean said, exasperated. He propped his arm up to rest on his hand. "I've enough to think about."

"Don't we all?" said Brønnild. She nodded at Jean, who nodded back, and scanned his face. "Been a while. Great place to reunite."

Jean idly hummed, which was also somewhat of a grumble, at her sarcasm. "Good to see you, too."

"What say you about this, Jean?" asked Will.

"Not much that is coherent, right now. I'm still taking everything in. Caden. Working with inhumans. Sure, this Sylvestar was once human…"

"It doesn't change anything," Will spat. "Your mind changes when you're no longer human. You literally become something else, in every way. We've all seen enough of that, and there's nothing anyone can say to convince me otherwise."

Hiding a frown, Jean kept his thoughts to himself. Despite everything, he was sure he knew Caden enough that the man would have made sure this wasn't true before keeping an inhuman around. Then again, the Caden he knew never would have worked with inhumans. That, and he truly didn't want to open in his mouth in case his more personal thoughts came on display; he didn't believe in what Will was saying. Not anymore.

He then asked, "Are you leaving, or are you going to 'bond'?"

Giving a short bark of a laugh, Will looked around. "I'll probably do some 'bonding', yes."

"We need to see a few people, anyway," Brønnild added.

"Several," Will easily agreed. He held out his hand for Jean to shake. "We should catch up again sometime, Jean. Despite everything, I do believe Caden was right about keeping in contact more often."

Shaking his hand, Jean nodded. "We should. Take care, you two."

Brønnild scoffed, motioning to his face. "We should be telling you that." She gave his shoulder a pat before she and her leader walked away.

Watching them go, Jean wondered what to do next. He then noticed the inky form of Nigel conversing in what seemed like a cordial manner with Ordell Frye. His eye narrowing, Jean slowly looked away. He then caught sight of Megedagik and Alsoomse walking down the main hall.

He immediately stood and sped over to them. "Megedagik!"

The younger man halted, turning to face him, while Alsoomse cast a small smile. "Jean-Luc."

Jean opened his mouth, but he paused. Instead, he softly exhaled, bowing his head. "I apologize for not keeping in contact."

Both hunters' expressions mirrored one another; they gave understanding but grim nods. "We understand, and we also apologize," said Alsoomse.

"It is...unfortunate that Holloway was right." Megedagik's gaze was somewhat distant.

Jean regardless felt guilty. "Please keep in contact. I will do the same."

Megedagik blinked, fully focusing on him. He seemed to ease a bit and gave a reassuring smile. "Of course." He held out his hand, as if awaiting a handshake.

Instead of shaking his hand, Jean took his arm, and his was also grasped. They then nodded at one another before letting go. Jean watched them steadily meld back into the group of people still leaving the meeting room, his expression remorseful. His gaze briefly went to the floor as his thoughts returned to what he was going to do next.

"Jean."

He turned to see Alister approaching him.

Dark hair swayed as Alister beckoned to the left. "Walk with me."

The offer was welcomed. Jean needed to have a conversation with someone he could speak more openly with. Alister was that someone.

Infamous, as they all were, as one of the hunter groups who worked with inhumans, Alister Crowley was a humble fellow who typically let his actions speak for him. A man of a few words, when he did speak, his say was often meaningful and logical. One would think a man of tradition such as Jean would not have befriended a blasphemer like Alister, but they struck up a good friendship many years ago; over what, Jean himself could not remember. Perhaps it was Alister's honest, amicable character. Jean knew he could make subtle hints about Celezar with the unsaid promise of confidentiality.

They walked through the halls of the outpost in companionable but introspective silence. Most familiar faces of other hunters gradually disappeared as they found themselves walking in a pseudo-circle through the rocky, tunnel-like passageways that led back to a high ledge in the meeting room. Only when they arrived did Jean make a sound, and his exhale echoed. Realizing his microphone was still on, he turned it off. He didn't want his voice to be too loud.

"In the end, the meeting was rather useless," he said with a short, humorless laugh. He leaned against the wall. "He could have easily handed our asses to us over the phone."

While he smiled a bit, Alister hummed. "That would have been quite a bit of phone calls. Lots of wasted time."

Jean inclined his head. "True. But perhaps no more than what time was wasted, anyway." Looking to his left, he observed the empty room.

"That creature..."

He looked back at Alister.

The man slowly placed his hands behind his back, emotions flittering on his face. He looked as if he was trying to find the right words to say. After a moment or two, he said, "How did you survive an encounter with that thing?"

Shaking his head, Jean stared forward. He carefully organized his words in his mind, putting himself into the mindset of his old self, the self that despised inhumans. "That third creature. I personally... _theorize_...it might have helped us."

"Interesting..."

"Otherwise, my men and I should be dead." He looked away.

"What do you make of Caden's words?"

"About inhumans?"

"About everything."

Shoulders heaving in a huff, Jean narrowed his eyes. "While he was right about us working together...I don't fully agree with his ideals. Using inhumans? Subjugating them, controlling them? Radical ideas. I don't know how you can trust then when they're not like us."

A soft sound came from Alister, one of consideration. "Because they are like us."

Jean turned to face his friend, who was smiling ruefully. Those were like Celezar's words. There was something about Alister's smile that spoke volumes, but of what, Jean couldn't discern.

Walking forward, Alister placed his hands on the rail and leaned forward. "They're so incredibly like us, Jean. More than you can imagine. They can ally themselves for a cause, think for themselves, have free will. Many can switch between their instinctual selves and their intellectual thoughts. It's incredible. Those that can't, they are an exception, but we're not talking about them. The most powerful of them can do that. They can feel, they can laugh, they can cry. They can mourn. They can love."

Glancing to the floor, Jean thought of Celezar again. "Is it really so simple? After all I've seen..." He recalled the mother and daughter from Goshe. What were their names? He took both their lives so easily.

There was more than the slimmest of chances that the mother loved her inhuman mate, as she loved and cared for her inhuman daughter. He shook his head. The way he was raised, what was hammered into him, told him that was impossible. The woman was raped, was brainwashed. Inhumans couldn't love.

But his heart and his more recent experiences said otherwise. He was learning to trust them both despite his upbringing in a remarkably jarring way.

"They're like us in one other way, too." Alister turned to him, resting against the rail. His smile was somber. "They can be good and evil. Even the highest of their classes, devils and hallows, Elementals and Deities, and even sentient parasites, can be good and evil."

Jean's eyes widened. "You know of hallows?"

Alister's expression turned keen, a twinkle of awareness in his amber eyes. "I know of many types of inhumans, ones you couldn't even imagine exist." A sly smile appeared on his face at the open stare given to him. "How do you know of them?"

Feeling as though the man could see right through him, Jean scrunched his brows. He internally warred between saying the words outright or playing along. He returned to leaning against the wall. "I was attacked by one, a person I knew." Thinking back on the incident at Augusus, he shook his head. The corner of his mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile. "Bastard told me what he was. Not...quite sure what the hell they are, though."

"Ah." Looking upon the unsightly scar for the first time to Jean's knowledge, Alister seemed to understand. "How unfortunate. hallows can be quite the sadistic bastards, I admit."

Could they, now? Be it a certain someone was more hallow than not, Jean stored this information for later.

Alister continued. "All I can say, Jean, is this: Don't be blinded by fear that isn't warranted."

This advice seemed to be pointed at Jean for a very specific reason. Looking up at him, Jean considered the possibility his lie didn't go through after all. But Alister's expression was once more an impassive mask.

"Why would you say that?"

"You're a good man, Jean. I trust you."

Alister looked up at something behind Jean, and, glancing back, Jean saw Caden approaching from down the passage. Then what was Alister looking at? This stewed briefly in his mind, but his friend neared him and gave his shoulder a pat.

"Don't think too hard, Jean-Luc. Take care, if I don't see you again." He smiled before walking down the hall, giving Caden a nod.

Jean turned away. Caden was the last person he wanted to see. To talk to. Alone.

Caden stopped opposite to him. "I've been meaning to talk to you, Jean."

A kinder voice, this time. Different, even, from the voice Jean spoke to over the phone. It was familiar. It was intimate.

Keeping his eyes elsewhere, Jean sighed. "About?" The empty meeting room was so much more interesting to look at.

The short silence said many things: How are you? How have you been? Are you alright? Is Celezar dead?

Instead, Caden asked, "How are things at Isle Veni?"

More than willing to stick to this subject, Jean readily responded, "We've been in better shape, but things are fine, otherwise. We have some new men. Two. They're young knuckleheads but a great addition to the group. I recruited a new man while here."

Caden hummed approvingly. "That's good."

"I see you have an interesting first mate, there. Nigel, is it?"

"Nigel Mackler." Jean could hear the smile in Caden's voice. "He's not the most...acquiescent of them, but he's a very competent man."

"He pissed me off and I only spoke to him once. It's that stupid grin."

"Yeah, I've told him about that."

"Is he always like that?"

A chuckle. "'Fraid so."

Jean scoffed. "Bastard."

"Yes, he is."

"And Sylvestar?"

Blue met brown as they stared at one another. Caden slanted his eyes. "He's suffering, Jean. He's a willing participant to being used as a weapon, but he's suffering. Hell, we don't even know what he is."

"You said a vampiric creature did that to him. Is it anything like...?"

Bronze hair shook. "I'm not certain."

"Does he have any idea?"

"He would have told me."

"Would he?"

Narrowing his eyes dangerously, Caden raised his head. "He's one of my men. I trust him as I trust them all."

For a moment, Jean did nothing. He knew how he would have responded to that if he was his old self. He had to keep the charade, so he moved from the wall, glowering at him. "You fucking hypocrite."

"He's being used as a weapon, Jean!"

"That makes it okay?"

Caden ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. "There's a difference between a natural-born inhuman and a human-turned-inhuman. He still has humanity. He knows humanity."

Jean scoffed. "Why haven't you just taken him out of his misery?"

"Don't you think we tried?" Caden retorted with a scowl. He pointed towards the meeting room. "He can't fucking die, Jean! Whatever the hell he is, he can survive decapitation, survive burning, survive holy water, survive magic, survive impaling, survived everything we ever threw at him! And yet he still lives! You think he wants to live like that? A monster that feeds off blood?!"

His mouth snapping shut, Jean looked away with a deep exhale. Of course, he considered that.

Celezar immediately came into his thoughts. Becoming inhuman, like Sylvestar but willingly, still made him reasonably nervous. He knew what he wanted to do...but fear held him back. Unbridled, terrorizing fear.

A pained expression crossed his face. He knew it was noticed before he could turn away.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

"Not if you look like that." The following silence only caused the older man to take at least a step forward. "What, you think I still don't know you?"

Glaring back at him with his one good eye, Jean hissed, "That was eight _fucking_ years ago. Twice as long as you knew me."

Relenting a bit, Caden glanced to the floor. "Yes. Alright. You've changed. You even have new scars. I guess I..." He shook his head while briefly closing his eyes, lips pursed. He faltered, brows furrowing, and started again while looking up at him. "We never exactly said goodbye."

A blond brow rose. That was it?

Turning around, Jean huffed, but it was soft. Conceding. He took a fleeting moment to observe the other man.

He was nineteen when they met. It was a thrilling experience, self-discovery. There was passion, lust, trust. Their relationship lasted four years. Then they fought and went their separate ways. They never did get the chance to say goodbye. Looking back, Jean wasn't sure if he what he had felt towards Caden was love or...something else. And if he was honest with himself, if he hadn't met Celezar, he would probably feel the same way Caden did.

But he did meet Celezar.

His heart gave a throb.

A sensation tingled through his body, freeing him of days of mental and physical tension. It was a bit frightening, but he ran with it. Momentarily closing his eyes, he approached Caden, crossing the space between them with two long strides.

He looked up into the earthy eyes. "Don't go dying on me." He placed a hand on the man's shoulder, looking away. "Goodbye, Caden."

Turning, he walked down the passageway, back to the main halls of the outpost.

To Celezar.

He took his time to walk back to the barracks. While trekking through the halls, he felt a sense of elation thrumming through his body. It _was_ a bit frightening, but...

He wanted to be with Celezar. Never did he want anything more. As he had for six years, he truly loved Celezar. The realization, as it did that day in the woods, stunned him. If knowing Celezar was inhuman and even part-devil didn't prevent him from continuing to love the hybrid, nothing would. This brought a strange but welcomed sense of satisfaction within him.

Briefly, he shut his eyes and took a deep, calming breath in the elevator.

He wanted this.

Even the thought of what awaited him back home, to his great surprise, wasn't enough to change his decision. His men, his brothers, even his mother; they were a part of his past, and while he had no intentions to abandon them, they had little to do with his chosen future. He was certain of it. He knew it.

But how would he even begin to see it to fruition?

Not many days had passed since Ridridge, yet he felt as though he had wasted too much time trying to come up with an answer to his emotional turmoil. Was he moving further from his past, closer to a future he wanted for himself, or was he only digging himself an early grave? The more he pondered this, the more he wondered if Alister was trying to tell him something. He wouldn't put it past the shrewd man to do so.

A transporter eventually brought him back to the hall before the barracks. Slipping from his seat, he leisurely walked through the lounge space. There weren't as many people around, this time. He did, however, spot Euphemia sitting in a leather chair facing the hall.

She quickly took notice of him, her face lighting up. "Jean!"

Smiling back, Jean neared his old childhood friend, giving her a warm hug after she stood. With her small stature, she barely reached his chest. "Euphie. It's good to see you after all this time."

She beamed reverently at him, then her sienna eyes scanned his face, causing her expression to steadily drop.

Likewise, his smile lessened a bit. He ran his fingers down his scar. "I'm alright," he said, answering her unvoiced question.

"Are you, really?" She placed her hands on his arms. "No one has seen that fucking thing since he attacked you...and he was a good friend of yours..."

" _Was_ ," he reminded in his charade. "Emphasis on that."

Sighing, she steadily lowered her hands, but they lingered. Her lips slightly pursed, then she gave him a small smile. "Everyone is out of the outpost cooling their heads. I even heard some didn't bother to heed what Holloway said and left right away, too irate and disturbed to deal with 'bonding' right now."

"Like Reznick?" At the nod, he scoffed, looking forward. "Hotheaded bastard."

She gave a slant-eyed, knowing smile. "Sounds like someone we knew."

He scoffed again, cracking a small grin. He was a bit brash when he was younger. "Right. I think I'm pretty good with the 'bonding' part, myself."

"How many of us would you consider friends?" she asked teasingly.

He raised a brow. "You, Jermaine, Madeleine, Will, Eirene, Megedagik...Alister."

Her large eyes rolled. "Yeah. Alister." He gave her a look, prompting her to make a relenting shrug. "What are you going to do for the rest of the day? I was thinking we might be able to catch up."

He hesitated. He wanted to, he really did. She was the younger sister of a dear friend of his, one of the men he lost seven years ago. Yet...

"I'm staying for today. Might leave mid-afternoon tomorrow." He glanced down the hall towards his room. "I'll have to schedule a date with you some other time. I've something important to take care of. It might take up the rest of the day."

Her expression waned by a bit, but she nodded. "Alright. I was thinking of leaving tomorrow, too..."

"Maybe tomorrow, then." Giving her a nod, he began to walk down the hall.

"It's a date," she called behind him.

He waved back at her without turning around. Once he reached the near-end of the hall, he turned to and unlocked his door.

It was still early, maybe after eight, from Jean's internal clock. Celezar was still sleeping on the bed, not breathing and motionless as a cadaver. His position had not changed; he faced the wall and was slightly curled inward.

Gently, Jean closed the door behind him before approaching the other side of the bed. As he did earlier, he sat beside Celezar and brushed his fingers through the hybrid's reddish hair. He leaned down to inhale the scent of earth and herbs. When he was ignorant, he thought it was cologne or soap or shampoo or something. Now, he knew.

It was Celezar's natural scent, at least in his human form. Perhaps that was one way to distinguish some inhumans in their humanoid forms from humans. He would have to ask. There was much he wanted to ask.

The body beside him stirred, olive eyes fluttered open. Breathing resumed as Celezar came to life.

Jean slightly pulled away. "Did I wake you?" he softly asked.

Nodding, Celezar looked up at him. "'Morning, love."

Smiling, Jean lowered to give his partner a kiss. It was chaste, but it seemed sweeter that way. "'Morning," he whispered against the hybrid's lips, his voice barely audible.

Brows rising, Celezar scanned his face. "You seem different."

"Is it good?"

"I think so."

"Then, it's good." Jean kissed him again. This time, he was pulled down, and so he moved until his whole body slid over Celezar's. "You smell good," he murmured.

Celezar smiled at him. He held Jean's face in his hands, caressing with his thumbs.

"Why do you smell so good?"

"I have no idea." As Jean slightly frowned, the hybrid grinned. "How was the meeting?"

Rolling over, Jean slightly sat up and reached down to take off his boots and socks. "It was a mess. Most of what anyone did was shout."

"Sounds like fun."

"Exactly." He let his boots fall to the floor, then propped his head up by his arm, facing his partner. Celezar had also turned towards him. "Later events will tell if anyone actually took anything from it."

"Did you get anything out of it?"

Slanting his eyes, he smiled again. "Yes...Yes, I did."

Celezar emitted a soft, amused laugh. He seemed as though he wanted to say more but opted for moving closer to Jean and snuggling against him. Jean lowered his head to inhale the hybrid's scent some more until his head was slightly against Celezar's.

"Are we leaving today?"

"No. Tomorrow."

"Good..."

In companionable silence, they rested. His eyes slowly, steadily closing, Jean felt fully content. It was soothing...something he needed. The low, distant drone of inaudible voices from the hallway drifted through the room. It wasn't intrusive but surprisingly lulling. Before Celezar drifted off to sleep again, he decided it was better to ask questions now than later.

"Celezar?"

"Mm?"

"How would I become inhuman? What is the process?"

He could almost sense the awe that came from his partner. "From what is available to my mixed species, there is only one way. But it has to be done slowly."

"And what and why is that?"

Celezar slightly shifted against him. "The what: ingesting my essence. The why: if you don't, mating with me will kill you."

"I see..." Opening his eyes, Jean saw Celezar's eyes were also shut. "How does that work? Your essence?"

Celezar's brows slightly furrowed. His lips twitched as he seemed to fish for the answer. "It's a liquid in my body that I suppose is a mix of my semen and other genetic...markers? Not sure how to explain it. Only hallows can change their mates into full inhumans." He abruptly went quiet. "It isn't actually my semen. That's different..."

Intrigued, Jean brushed his fingers against Celezar's cheek. "Then what happens?"

A sigh. "After a few times, you will feel a change in your body. It won't take long. For instance, if we mate several times before tonight, by tomorrow you'll notice it. Eventually, at the very end of the metamorphosis, your libido will increase dramatically and you will have an uncontrollable need to mate with me—or so others have told me has happened to their mates. Your change might be different."

"And that's it?"

A hum. "Mostly. During this time, which could be as short as a week, you'd have to continue receiving infusions of the liquid to keep the change going or it won't happen. That, too, could kill you. Then, when you're fully inhuman, you'll have powers and abilities like some admittedly weaker but, in comparison to a human, vastly superior inhumans. Only when you're fully inhuman could we then have children." His mouth snapped shut and he slightly jolted back.

Watching with confusion, Jean frowned when Celezar slightly scooted away.

"Sorry," he muttered. His eyes opened, but he wasn't looking forward. "I don't even know if you want children..."

His gaze growing distant, Jean wondered.

When he discovered his sexual preference, he figured he would never have children. Adoption was possible, but then the whole idea of having a family blew out the window when he came to realize having one would not only be difficult but would be a liability. He knew how difficult it had been for his father. Such responsibility wasn't for him, the leader of a group of hunters. That was better suited for his brothers, one of which did the bare minimum of risky work. A family crying over him if the worst came to pass was furthermore depressing.

But now...

He looked at his partner, this being he had loved for six years. That was some time. Celezar was still the same cheeky, sly, mischievous personality he had fallen in love with back then, still the same caring and dear partner he called his. Even then, Celezar had always been an inhuman. Even now, after the discovery, nothing had changed.

Jean knew what he wanted.

"I want to have a family with you, Zarryel." Olive eyes flickered over at him. "I...do. I can't believe I do."

"What makes it so unbelievable?"

He glanced to the side. "You know why."

Celezar softly hummed. "I want to hear it."

Sighing, Jean reached for his partner, placing a hand on Celezar's side. "I'm...a born and bred hunter. I don't know anything else. Sometimes, it bothers me that I am so willing to...abandon what I was told and believed not so long ago."

A small, sad smile was given to him. "Who is to say you truly believed in it if it is all you've known?"

Pausing, Jean considered this. He recalled Celezar asking him a similar question not too long ago. Taking it into consideration...he imagined there was a possibility he was indeed repeating the only thing he knew.

That, too, was baffling.

"If I have to be inhuman to be with you, have a life with you, I want to become inhuman," he said, almost to himself. He met the green eyes that looked at him with evident hesitation. "I do."

A gradual tender smile blossomed on the hybrid's face. Jean pulled Celezar to him, holding him close, relishing the feel of the muscular arms that wrapped around his body. Their foreheads touched, tangling blond hair with auburn.

Smiling, he slightly moved to kiss the freckled brow. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to say that."

"You're only human, love," Celezar softly chuckled.

"At the moment."

This response made Celezar squeeze him closer. "When do you want to do this?"

Jean looked him straight in the eye. Without hesitation, he replied, "Right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** So, this might be the last chapter in a little while again. I've...ah...a problem at home regarding the rest of this novel and only have four more chapters that I can upload before I don't have anything!! I shall take the scoldings...I'll get the rest back, somehow. I'll keep you all updated on my [Facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/marqaroll).


	14. The Love and the Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean confronts his deepest fears with Celezar in a marvelous, dark new world.

Once more, Jean traveled over the open land by horse with Basker running beside him. As the façade required Basker to be treated like an ordinary dog, the distance from the Memorraw to Bremen was a good morning run. Though he hadn't said anything to Celezar, Jean quietly intended to stay with him for the entirety of the day.

As he rode the horse in a gallop, Jean's heart beat at a steady beat despite his anticipation and, admittedly, excitement. Every now and then, his lips would spread into a small smile. He knew what he was doing. He knew what it meant—could mean. But those things would not happen to him. His eyes followed Basker.

He was not doing anything wrong.

After letting the horse rest at the same inn's stable, he realized Basker was missing, just as he was last time. He smiled and continued his walk through the city with the same central park in mind. It wasn't as early in the morning as before; shops had a steady flow of customers, more people and vehicles were about, and school would be starting soon.

One thing that did worry him was that he saw more familiar hunters at a distance. He did his best to avoid them, weaving through the streets and staying away from the main roads. He wasn't of the mind to speak to anyone else.

Once he arrived at the park, he moved to stand at the top of the hill overlooking it. It was a crisp spring day, smelling fresh and calming. It was still a bit cool but not so much that it prevented the beginnings of spring growth. The park had been raked of its leaves from autumn and leftover from winter, revealing the young grass springing from the earth.

Early morning chirps of birds fluted through the air, and he looked around to catch a few. He liked this park, at least during this time of the day. It was quiet and welcoming, a wonderful place to relax. Some distance down the hill and around the overpass leading to a bridge was the spot he and Celezar had spoken two days? ago. He stared at the dark passageway, recalling it fondly.

A strong arm wrapped around his waist, and a nose nuzzled into his hair along with a deep inhale. His expression brightened, eyes slanting, and he stalled before leaning against the taller body. He was brought closer to Celezar, and he exhaled deeply with contentment. He looked up to be graced by a tender smile and shining green eyes.

Celezar then took his hand and led him down the hill. Wordlessly, they walked underneath the underpass of the bridge and down the patchy dirt path. Seldom did someone walk by, as there were still morning walkers in the area. After a while, Celezar cut through the forest, and Jean did not question him. They walked some distance inside, the fresh smell even stronger now, and passed trees and their young leaves. Every nearby branch, every flower within arm's reach, was caressed by Celezar with his free hand. Jean would swear some of the verdant magnetized to him as he passed.

Celezar brought him to a clearing. It was large and evidently off the beaten path as only the barest of small trails leading into it were visible. Jean looked around. Flowers dotted the edge of the clearing, budding and some already in full bloom. Out the corner of his eye, Celezar was staring at him. He turned to gaze at him, noticing his partner's eyes were darker than before. It seemed as if a rim of black had formed at the edge of his sclera.

Without much effort, Jean knew this was a... _very_ good sign.

Celezar placed his hands on the sides of Jean's face, pressing their foreheads together. "Do you trust me?" he murmured.

Jean parted his lips to hover them over his partner's. "With my life."

With a gentle smile, Celezar lightly pushed against him, forcing him back. Without hesitation, Jean allowed his body to fall backwards while staring into the dark eyes.

The moment he hit the grass, he world gave away. As if he fell through a trapdoor, the ground disappeared, pulled from underneath him into a darker place. A cold autumny smell immediately overwhelmed his senses. Looking intensely at him, Celezar's eyes glowed brightly in the darker surroundings. Holding Celezar's hand, Jean was rightened so he was falling legs first and gazed upon his new environment.

Leaves in browns, reds, purples, and muddy greens twirled as they passed through the sky. The heavens were clear with dancing stars glittered across as far as the eye could see. The moon, so large, so perfectly round, overwhelmed the horizon. The landscape was of blackened, deadish trees and open, brown lands of grooved ground with hazel grass for miles and miles.

The trees. At first, they appeared ordinary, if not dead. But as they came closer, their alarming size dawned on Jean. They were monstrous with swirly branches, thick-limbed and seemingly black as night. If not for the light of the inconceivably large moon, it would be impossible to see anything.

The lights. Bulbous, wispy sapphire-blue and pumpkin-orange lights danced everywhere. Immediately, they reminded Jean of will-o'-wisps; he was sure that's what they were. As he fell, some moved up to dance around him, as if welcoming him to this surreal would. Because he surely wasn't on Earth anymore.

Or was he?

They were falling towards a tree. Said tree kept getting bigger. In his world, there was a limit to how large a tree could get. Sequoias were one thing; Jean would never forget the first time he saw one. But this monstrosity of a goliath of a tree just kept getting bigger. Worst yet, it wasn't the only one. In the distance of the landscape, trees of different shapes and varieties, from those akin to baobab to those akin to weeping willows, were just as large. Just as magnificent.

Just as downright frightening.

Jean felt so small, so painfully tiny. The tree was a rich, earthy brown with several large strips of blackened bark, but it seemed perfectly healthy. Even its leaves were a dark, muddy green. Despite this, he couldn't see a single thing wrong with it. At his right, he caught sight of mostly indiscernible creatures traversing the dark land. They were obviously massive, if their size at such a distance was any indicator.

But not as large as the tree.

After what felt like long minutes of falling, they slowed in their descent until they landed gently atop one of the tree's curled limbs. Jean took a moment to gaze upon the new world once more, then focused on Celezar beside him. The hybrid was also looking around, his lips spread in a happy smile.

Somehow, Jean knew why his partner was smiling. This was Celezar's homeland, and he was sharing it with Jean. For fourteen years, Jean lived as an inhuman hunter. It was dawning on him that he was witnessing things and currently in a world no normal hunter could ever imagine seeing.

Celezar was fully opening up to him, inviting him into the world that would also become his.

Jean tugged lightly on Celezar's arm, prompting his partner to look at him. The contented, happy smile was infectious. A smile of his own forming on his face, Jean leaned forward to kiss him.

Celezar was perfectly still, but his mouth moved. He unfurled his tongue within Jean's mouth, giving him a shiver, then roamed lazily, licking and caressing and chuckling at him. Jean slightly pulled away, and Celezar's tongue was still partially in his mouth. As it rolled back, he watched the black muscle disappear behind a grin.

"Welcome to Hallowed Ground, love," said the hybrid, reaching up to place his hand on the side of Jean's face. "My home."

Exhaling softly, Jean licked his lips while leaning into the touch. "I like what I've seen. Now, if only I wasn't rightly terrified as well..."

"That's healthy," Celezar chuckled. "This is a safe place. It's where I live with my family."

"Safe?"

A mischievous smirk was given to him. " _Safe_ safe. I didn't want to bring you to any old place for mating..."

Jean hadn't forgotten about that. He was thankful Celezar had taken safety into account, but it was more than a bit ironic to him that the safest place to be was in an inhuman world.

Taking Jean's hand, Celezar led him down the limb, which was wide enough to be a very large room's floor. As they walked, Jean again took notice of the dark creatures traversing the lands. Some were even in the sky, but they didn't bother them. Considering his and Celezar's distance from them, they were larger than life. They were all dark-colored and had tentacles and misty bodies, wings and large, glowing eyes.

He raised his free hand as the will-o'-wisps continued to dance around. "What are these things?"

"Nightfires. Will o' the wisps. Ghost lights. They have many names." Celezar lifted his other arm which seemed to call the lights to his hand. They gathered just above his palm, hovering in a pile. "You can say they are living remnants of decaying matter."

Jean watched them float away as Celezar blew on them. "Ghosts, essentially?"

"In a way. Only they're alive. They eventually consume themselves and cease to exist. They're almost like the flies of this world."

Looking to his right, Jean caught sight of a large lime-green eyeball peeking from behind the limb of a nearby tree. "Ah...Celezar..."

"Yes, don't mind them. Don't mind any creature that looks at you." Celezar squeezed his hand. "So long as you're with me, they can't hurt you. They wouldn't dare."

Even though Celezar couldn't see it, Jean nodded in understanding. He stared at the eyeball a little longer before looking forward.

They were nearing an interesting sight. The canopy of the tree was full of leaves, but a part of its trunk was entirely open, showing a misty white light within. Once they neared, Jean looked down. It was almost entirely hollow, in a not-so-literal sense of the word.

It wasn't hollowed out, like many possibly unhealthy or unsafe trees in Jean's world. There were platforms and passageways, alcoves and ledges, nests and holes. The light came from glowing white fungi that were far larger than Jean's body and gave the space a ghostly glow. Jean wondered to himself what possibly lived in such a place.

His question was answered when there was a loud chirp from below. The sound echoed through the tree, and it was followed by many other blaring chirps and chirrups. A wide smile broke out on Celezar's face upon hearing them.

"My siblings," he said to Jean. He was also looking into the tree. "My much younger siblings, rather."

Jean recalled Celezar mentioning that he had a twin brother in his human guise. "How many do you have, aside from your twin?"

Eyes dancing with mirth, Celezar hummed, "Oh...many. More than a hundred."

Jean blinked long and hard. "Your parents were busy."

" _Are_ busy. Hallow families are always outrageously large. I'm used to a large family. When I was young, the nest was always crawling with my siblings." Shaking his head dismissively, Celezar let go of Jean's hand. "In any case..."

Clothes, hair and skin morphed as he transformed into his inhuman form. Jean stepped back a bit, looking up at him, then took several strides away when Celezar lowered on all four of his hands. There was a sudden, hollow cracking sound. In a moment, large, chiropteran-esque wings emerged from Celezar's back. They were the same color as the carapace that was his "skin". He beckoned for Jean to climb up onto him with his head.

Jean eyed him, a blond brow rising. He wondered how he was going to get atop him, moving to the hybrid's side. Instead of trying to figure it out too deeply, he raised himself up by manifesting one of the magical blue platforms beneath his feet. He then grabbed one of the black spines down Celezar's back and climbed up.

The long black appendages that were Celezar's tentacles gently guided him to the only area on the hybrid's back that was bare of spines. That spot was right between said appendages. He settled in position, then watched some tendrils wrap around his hands as he dug his fingers into the craggy parts of Celezar's carapace and rested his feet on some spines. The tendrils securely held him in place.

As soon as he went still, Celezar jumped from the ledge and dove into the tree. While what he was doing was entirely new to Jean, he didn't even flinch at the sudden movement or the whisking of the wind against his body. His eyes did flutter a bit, and he took in the sights as they descended.

The interior of the tree was far more astounding than what Jean could imagine. With the aid of the glowing fungi, the entire space felt ethereal and unreal. The light cast dark shadows underneath crags and in corners where eyes occasionally glowed from within. Creatures of all sorts watched them from what appeared to be enormous moss, leaf and twig nests on ledges. The vast majority appeared vaguely similar to Celezar's inhuman form, if not astonishingly larger.

While falling, they were greeted by roars and chirrups, flashing orbs and teeth. Some swipes were made from clawed limbs and low hisses echoed from some nests, but no one approached. Overall, it was a mixed greeting, Jean thought.

They suddenly swooped in the air, causing Jean to slightly jolt form the lack of force, and Celezar descended to a wooden platform carved from the heartwood of the tree. There was a passageway deeper inside the wood as well as what looked like the beginnings of a moss-covered nest on the platform. Hiding most of the area from view was the partial "wall" of the heartwood. It kept the nest entirely hidden.

Celezar landed atop the wood. "Here we are." His wings retracted into his back further ahead of where Jean sat.

The tendrils let Jean's hands go, and he jumped down onto the softness of the moss underneath his feet. It almost felt wrong to be atop it with his boots. "Is this...your nest?"

"Yes. I started making it when I came of age." Celezar morphed back into his human form. He shook his head, running his hands through his hair.

Watching him, Jean looked up at where a softly glowing fungus hung above the space. "How old was that?"

"Ten thousand."

Scoffing, Jean observed his partner as he neared. "You really are a young one, aren't you?"

A familiar mischievous smirk was flashed at him. "I told you. Like a teenager, Jeanie-boy." Celezar gently placed his hands on the sides of Jean's face, pressing their foreheads together. "I've waited a long time for this..."

The meaning behind these words wasn't lost to Jean. He made a lopsided smile, raising his hands to hold Celezar's wrists. "Sorry it took so long to be born."

Laughing softly, Celezar kissed Jean's forehead. He then moved back to take his hand and led him into the passageway within the heartwood. It was possibly large enough to yield the largest of the creatures Jean saw in the other nests. Enormous round chambers were visible down several maze-like halls. The entire space and the chambers were also lit by scatterings of fungi. Moss covered most of the walls and ground and the distant smell of freshwater met Jean's nostrils.

Celezar led him down a particular hall that curved to the left and  sloped downwards. After several turns, they came to a similarly ethereal, unevenly circular-shaped space where the massive roots of the tree were partially submerged under a spring of highly reflective water. The "ceiling" of the area was extremely high, at least a hundred feet high, if Jean had to guess. Looking up, he saw the fungi were growing from what appeared to be short roots of the tree. They were underneath it.

Along the entirety of the rock and dark roots that made up the walls in front of them were waterfalls of varying sizes. Lowering down along massive roots after the passageway, Celezar brought Jean onto dark black and brown islands that were more roots sticking up in the water. Some roots became covered in moss as they neared the waterfalls. It was still wonderfully soft and thick beneath Jean's feet.

He didn't ask where they were going. He only knew one thing: They were going somewhere private. As he followed Celezar, he realized there was something they had yet to do. If they were going to mate, they might as well do that, too.

The strong sound of rushing water pulsed in his ears. It could have been irritating, but it wasn't. The waterfalls were thousands of times larger than any he had seen on his world. He marveled at them, then looked at Celezar when the hybrid went still.

Still facing forward, Celezar's shoulders rose and fell in a deep exhale. He then turned around, taking Jean's other hand, to look into his eyes.

Before Jean could speak, he felt a gentle, foreign prodding in his mind. He blinked, slightly narrowing his eyes, then recognized what was happening. This was exactly what he was thinking of. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he nodded.

Celezar's lips spread into an elated smile, and he once more reached to take Jean by the sides of his head. " _Thank you, Jean,_ " he whispered within Jean's mind. " _Thank you so much_."

His partner's evident pleasure brought a genuine smile to Jean's face.

" _I'll let you read my mind, too_ ," Celezar assured.

Jean gave a nod, then closed his eyes. He was perfectly at ease.

Soon, a gentle swell of emotions and memories and thoughts entered his mind. They were all from moments he spent with Celezar, but from Celezar's perspective. There were also moments when his partner was alone, thinking of him, hoping for and desiring him. Slowly, his hands reached up to take Celezar's wrists.

Not all the stimulations were pleasant. There were more than a handful that were pained and distressed, times when Celezar suffered from the loss of Jean and the knowledge he was lying to him. Heartbreak, terror; the event in Augusus brought those emotions to the forefront. Celezar's hearts had screamed in pain. His mind could barely contain coherent thoughts that weren't full of anger towards himself, fear at what he had done and what had been done to him. He was afraid. He was ashamed. He was angry. He didn't know what to do.

He had left after healing Jean to keep himself sane and to prevent himself from hurting Jean further. But that didn't make the shame or self-hatred go away. It only made it worse.

Tears began to form in Jean's eye. He held onto Celezar, slowly rubbing their heads together. When he saw Celezar in the forest near Cadron, the hybrid was barely holding himself together inside. He put up an impressive and relentless mask, but he hid how pained and torn he was.

Celezar softly exhaled, and something different happened. It wasn't something Jean could physically feel, but he could sense it. It enveloped him, held him, kissed and caressed him. Though unsaid, words of devotion, affection, protection and even lust came to his awareness. A wave of emotion trembled through his body from head to toe, and tears spilled freely from his eye.

He was experiencing Celezar's love for him in the very moment. Celezar's promises to care for him and stay by his side resounded within his consciousness. And he believed them, more than ever before. A thumb caressed his cheek, wiping his tears away.

Then, there were Celezar's current thoughts. And his smile dropped.

Blood.

There was so much blood.

His eyes snapped open as he pulled away, taking several steps back. The expression on Celezar's face was one of horror, sadness and unadulterated rage.

Celezar reached for him. "Jean—"

"I _didn't_ want you to see that." He shakily inhaled. So quickly, he was coming undone, as the memories always did to him. He hated it.

"Jean—"

"I'm...I'm sorry." Shaking his head, he continued moving back. Body rigid and jaw locked, he screwed his eyes shut, as if that would make the memories go away, die down. But he continued to see the images replay beneath his eyelids. He felt Celezar's hand touch his, and he recoiled. "I..." He swallowed as his voice began to break.

He wanted this. He did. He wanted to be with Celezar _so intensely_. There was little he wanted more.

His body shook as he hyperventilated. The world seemed to close around him, choking him.

But, he _wanted_ this.

He wanted to do this.

 _Promise me you will never repeat his mistake_.

He abruptly recoiled once more as his mother's words echoed eerily in his mind, a haunting reminder of exactly what it was he wanted to do.

Wrong. It was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong, it was—

" _Jean!"_

Celezar's voice in his mind pushed the memories away, and he gasped for air. He hadn't even noticed he had fallen to his knees and had vomited until he opened his eyes. Arms were around him, strong and warm, and this time he didn't move away. The kind, gentle action only prompted his tears to fall faster. Part of him, spurred by the memories, wanted to shove Celezar away. The rest of him just wanted to be in the warmth, surrounded by the comforting presence he so adored.

His whole body suddenly, shakily heaved up. The moment he lowered, sobs spilled from his lips. Nearly three decades of fear held within him erupted to the surface of his being. He recalled the sensations of the dark magic as they licked at him, felt at him, and were used for violence. He recalled the blood— _Creation_ , the blood.

" _No one will hurt you again, Jean. Remember?_ "

Quickly, he held onto his partner, nodding rapidly. He knew this. He trusted Celezar indisputably. But it was painfully difficult to fight against the memories, the embedded fear. Surely, Celezar understood?

" _I do, love._ " A gentle kiss was planted on his forehead.

Where Celezar's lips touched, Jean's skin tingled. Shivering, he once more shut his eyes. " _I'm sorry...I'm so_ —"

" _No, love. Breathe_."

He swallowed before ceasing his sobbing to forcibly take a deep, shaky breath. Steadily, after many breaths, he began to calm. All the while, Celezar held him close, not rocking, not making any noise, simply a steady anchor to keep him stable in the waves of his turmoil.

He slightly opened his eyes. Celezar's many heartbeats sounded in his ear. It was an unusual sound, but Jean found it calming. Briefly letting his eyes shut again, he inhaled his partner's scent for the umpteenth time. He would never get enough of it. It greatly aided his descent from his overwhelming emotions.

With the help of deep breathing and time, he calmed. He stared off between his eyelids, drained of energy. In Celezar's arms, safe, warm, and unconditionally loved, he recalled his memories. He couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his face, but he was quiet.

The sound of water falling was the only sound in the entire area. After many long minutes, he softly exhaled.

" _When...I was six, I was playing in the forest near the Cellar_. _My...mother came to get me. Even then, I knew...Something was wrong._ " He knew Celezar had a clear idea of what happened, but he needed to say it aloud.

Twenty-five years of terror was long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** No, my hiatus is not over. Like I said (to...someone?) I have (or had, now) four chapters drafted here before I have...nothing. Oh, dear god, why is this happening now...
> 
> Let's not talk about it...
> 
> Fact of the matter is, I just wanted to upload after a while, now. If my technical problems persist, I may have to drag this story out with an update over the course of three **months** , meaning the first of June and the first of July. Which may work, since the first of July is also when Camp NaNoWriMo begins again. And since I **WAS** going to work on revising the (complete!) second book in [The Molt Series:HuShS](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1212642) for July, it looks like I might have to work on a brand new story, instead, as I did for April's Camp. 
> 
> Yes, I have another complete original story. It takes place in the same world as _Inhuman_ and...let's just say, so far, I'm thinking if I can't upload anything for HuShS anymore, I might as well upload that story since I actually...HAVE...it's...damn...CHAPTERS. Goddammit.
> 
> So that's the situation. That's the possible plan. I really, truly apologize for this.
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed! Sorry for leaving at it a cliffhanger-y place...


	15. Die a Loveless Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened twenty-five years ago that scarred Jean as a child?

_Living on Isle Veni was exciting and entertaining. At six years old, the world was so impossibly large to Jean. The isle itself was an adventurous world that never seemed to end, boundless in its offers of mysteries and fun. Because the isle was warded, it wasn't uncommon for him to explore on his own. He enjoyed being alone, sometimes. It gave him time to think, to recharge from the studious life as a young child in the Lowell family and the future leader of the Lowell Hunters._

_Lessons and learning of the inhumans of the world, memorizing names of spells, training to be the leader of the family's hunters; it could be exhausting. However, in the end, he normally ended up enjoying what he learned._

_On the isle, one place he enjoyed in particular was the forest near the Cellar. Everyone knew he was there. Everyone knew it was the one place he went to be left alone._

_He ran through the forest as if an inhuman was on his tail. Dodging and weaving through the trees, he glanced back at the imaginary hellhound. It was fortunately a young one; he would have needed to ask for help, otherwise. He knew it was safe to admit that. Looking forward, he jumped over a fallen trunk and rolled on the ground._

_Going into a crouch facing said monster, he lifted his gun while it was suspended in the air from its own jump. Before it could land, he gave it a shot, then rolled out the way. The hit landed! Right in the mouth. It gagged and whimpered, lying on its side on the ground._

_Not giving it a chance to attempt recovering, he swiftly neared it and unsheathed his sword, stabbing it in the neck. It immediately went still, dead in a second. That was the power of his consecrated sword. He recalled from his lessons that ordinary blades were normally never enough against several Infernals._

_Standing, he swung his sword of the blood before sheathing it at his side. "Mission accomplished, men," he said into his headset. "The hellhound is down. How are you handling the imps?"_

_Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, he heard movement nearing him. He turned to see a blond woman in long skirt-like pants approaching quickly. He immediately froze, his imagination dissipated. The woman's expression was a calm, calculating yet menacing stare, and she was looking directly at him._

_He dropped his rock and stick. "M-mother," he said softly, the sudden blooming warmth of terror spreading through his body._

_What did he do? Divine Creation, what did he do? He never saw an expression like that upon her face before. Rarely did he ever even see her._

_Instead of answering, she slowed when she came to him. He initially looked at her face, but after a moment, he lowered his head so he didn't have to see her terrible expression._

_Suddenly, his arm was taken, and he was pulled back to where she came from. He didn't dare question her. He didn't dare speak. He didn't know her very well, but she was still his mother. His retainers? always told him to obey her, no matter what, without question. He only glanced up, walking quickly to catch up with her urgent strides. She was looking straight ahead, not so much as acknowledging him._

_There was a horse waiting at the edge of the forest. Only one. He would have to ride with her. Wordlessly, she sat him on it before climbing up behind him. He kept his hands on the horse's neck, staring forward as dread continued to grow within him._

_They arrived to the Cellar. He remained still even when she brought him down from the horse, then was dragged into the outpost. He remained quiet even when he saw his father lead his brothers down the stairs ahead of him. Ulrich was evidently clueless, even in his eyes. But Tristan didn't seem nearly as scared as Jean knew he looked._

_Down to the first basement they went. His and his brother's small footsteps pattered in a staccato after the clicks of their mother's shoes and the thumps of their father's boots. The brown hall seemed to darken in his mind as they reached their destination. The closer they came to the entrance of the arena down the second staircase, a place he wasn't allowed to enter, he began to feel sick._

_Something wasn't right._

_"Wh-what's happening?" he asked in a soft voice, focusing his question to his father. His father would answer, right? "Did...I do something wrong, Father? M-mother?"_

_Silence was the response, though Tristan turned to look at him as they walked ahead. To his horror, his brother looked just as terrified as he did._

_Something was wrong._

_The warm browns, creams and whites of the previous floor abruptly gave away to stark grey and bright white light. It felt cold, unwelcoming, dangerous. The floor seemed to be made of a type of smooth metal, causing the clicking of heels to resound louder. A smell reached his nose the moment they entered the upper arena. It smelled of something foreign, but he knew it wasn't good. It wasn't very strong, but it nonetheless permeated the air._

_They walked down a ramp. Things that looked like cages and enclosed rooms with a single window were ahead. He had never been here before._

_He didn't want to be here._

_Shouting reached his ears. He perked up in alarm. It sounded like his uncles Friedrich and Alfred. Why were they shouting? Where was he?_

_"Mother," he said, tears forming in his eyes, "I...I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, b-but I'm sorry."_

_"Hush, child," she snapped. Her voice was hard and stoic. "You and your brothers must witness this."_

_He caught the glance of his father, which wasn't as cold as his mother's. Instead of rage, it merely seemed empty. Detached._

_His father looked ahead again._

_Somewhat hopefully assured he didn't do anything wrong, he tried to hold back his tears and went quiet. Regardless, whatever it was he had to see, he didn't want to see it._

_Finally, they turned a corner from a hall of isolated rooms and cages to a large one that was occupied. Friedrich was already there. Jean's grandparents, Leigh and Kaarlo, were already there. An unfamiliar woman in black was there, standing further from the others. His uncle Alfred was there, but..._

_As they came to stand in front of the cage-room, he could only stare. Terror welled within him, so much he swallowed the urge to vomit. He knew that wouldn't be tolerated, not here, despite the common knowledge what he was looking at was distressing._

_Chains and hooks dangled from the ceiling. A red barrier made from magic surrounded the center of the space where, hanging from one of those chains, his hands held over his head, was Alfred's nude body. The man's already pale, bruised and bleeding face blanched even more when his gaze met Jean's._

_"No...Gwendolyn! How...how could you?!" he shouted, his voice wheezy and faint. "They're only chil—"_

_Perhaps it was because he was stupefied that he didn't see her move, but Jean's mother somehow went from standing nearer to him to standing before Alfred, smacking him so hard his head violently turned sideways._

_This time, tears did fall from Jean's face. He didn't make a sound. He knew what this meant as he watched his mother shout at Alfred._

_"You words mean nothing unless they are repentance, Alfred," she hissed._

_Her brother breathed deeply, looking hard at her, but said nothing._

_Jean always heard the stories, always proudly and loudly proclaimed what the punishment was for associating with inhumans in his family. Never did he actually consider a member of his family would be so foolish to do such a blasphemous thing. Alfred knew the consequences. They all did._

_Shakily, he inhaled. His uncle wasn't tainted...was he? Moments of laughter and kindness, wise words and well-meant scoldings raced to the front of his mind. Were they all lies...?_

_"For the last time, Alfred," said Leigh, "tell us where the creature is."_

_"Repent!" Gwendolyn shouted, still standing before him._

_Defiant blue eyes stared at her. "I will...not." His voice was lower than before, weaker._

_Kaarlo shook his head with a deep exhale. "Very well. Intira."_

_The woman in black stood within the barrier. When she moved, the sound of chains was heard. Only then did Jean realize she was tightly shackled in glowing white chains and barefoot. She appeared to be bruised, purple welts over her face, hiding her possible beauty. Her expression was grim and angry. She hissed at Kaarlo, a sound that sent chills down Jean's back. It wasn't a sound a human should make._

_In retaliation for this, Friedrich hauled a blue orb at her that threw her back against the interior of the barrier. The attack dissipated, but the barrier held without so much as a flicker from the force. The clattering of chains resonated through the space, a harsh sound in Jean's ears._

_The woman didn't even groan, but she did continue hissing. With visible effort, she moved to her feet. Turning to Alfred, who appeared wary of her, her eyes flashed red._

_He abruptly threw his head back, a strangled cry emitting from his open mouth. It was such a sound that made Jean jump, and he watched in horror as his uncle began to writhe. It didn't take much for him to realize the woman was doing something to Alfred from how the depths of her eyes glowed red and how she stared so murderously at him._

_Another choked cry emitted from the man, his head quavering, his eyes rolling back. While watching, Jean's lower lip trembled. He wanted to know what was happening. His eyes then widened when blood began to trickle from out of Alfred's nostrils. A sadistic smirk formed on the woman's face, whereas the expressions of the other Lowell family members remained stoic and grim._

_"Tell us, Alfred," said Leigh, her arms crossed over her chest. Despite the cries of her son, she seemed uncaring and even callous. "Tell us where this creature is. Redeem yourself."_

_A look of worsening horror formed on Jean's face. Why would his uncle associate with an inhuman? Why?_ Why _?_

_"N-no..." Alfred's head shook to the sides and lowered, revealing his eyes were bloodshot. They stared downwards, devoid of emotion. "I...I won't."_

_As if expecting this response, Leigh reached out and backhanded him. While his head snapped to the side, this act seemed to have set off another, deeper pain, as Alfred's entire body convulsed before going still._

_Eyes darting from his grandmother to his uncle, Jean swallowed. Alfred had gone still too easily, too suddenly. Was he...?_

_"Do_ not _kill him," Kaarlo ordered, causing the black-clad woman to scowl._

_"If you keep hitting him, it'll make that difficult," she sneered._

_Friedrich stepped forward, clearly about to hit her again, but he was held back by Kaarlo._

_"What do you see?" Gwendolyn's voice was terse, angry._

_Intira's eyes narrowed. "He's still resisting. I'm actually impressed..." She briefly glanced at the others. "It seems not all of you Lowells are so half-baked after all."_

_"Why you—" Friedrich growled when his father held him back again._

_Kaarlo's mouth opened to say something when Alfred suddenly, hoarsely gasped. He then took in deep breaths of air with evident difficulty. From his mouth, blood dripped down to his chin._

_Shaking her head, Intira made a soft scoff. Her eyes returned to her natural dark color. "He has resisted my mental assault. Barely."_

_"Then go deeper," Leigh demanded. "Internally. Whatever it takes to make him confess."_

_Intira made a low, irritated growl, glaring at her. Before anyone could react, a white chain broke through the barrier and smacked across her face, causing her to sprawl onto the floor._

_Friedrich pointed at her. "Look at my mother like that again and I'll kill you, witch."_

_Swallowing, Jean stared upon the woman with a new sense of horror. Witches. They were a rare type of magic-user, proficient in the dark arts and very powerful. Or so it was said. Going by how this Intira was shackled and beaten, she must have been weakened._

_Without prompt, Alfred's head snapped back as a scream ripped from his mouth. Once more, Jean jumped, and more tears poured down his face when liquid trailed down from between his uncle's legs, dripping to the bloodied floor. It wasn't blood._

_This time, reddish tears began to spill from Alfred's eyes, his screams plaintive, piercing the heart and mind. Searing. Agonized. Jean wanted to look away, cover his ears. But he knew better to. The dark, hardened expressions on the faces of his elders only struck him as cruel, even with their dogma. Why didn't they just stop? Why didn't they just...kill him?_

_Wasn't that what they were supposed to do to those who associated with inhumans?_

_A moment after this thought, he suddenly swayed on his feet, nearly losing consciousness, as a force pushed against him. It was powerful. Deadly._

_As he continued to sway, feeling his body steadily attempt to free him of the visions and sensations, something pressed against his back to keep him steady. Without even looking, he knew it was his father._

_Everything after that was almost hazy, dreamlike. Screams. Such pained screams. Pleas to make the pain stop. All went ignored._

_All the while, questions were shouted at Alfred over his screams. All he needed to do was confess, to tell them who the inhuman was, what it wanted, why he associated with it._

_They're like us, he cried. They are not all evil._

_Blasphemy._

Blasphemy.

_Inhumans were creatures of darkness._

_That very darkness licked at Jean's body. Somehow, he knew that's what it was. The witch Intira was standing again, staring deeply at Alfred as they interrogated him. Her expression was one of hate, of disgust. Her breathing was steadily increasing, her shoulders steadily rising._

_Jean could feel it. A power charged within her. It was dark, unlike anything he had felt before. He wanted to say something. Anything. A warning. He wanted to scream._

Make it stop.

_He felt his father's hand move to his shoulder to steady him as he nearly stumbled on his feet._

_"What's happening?"_

_Somehow, mingled in with the screams, he heard his grandfather's voice. Alfred was thrashing, his wrists raw and bleeding, his eyes completely rolled into his head, and saliva and blood dripped profusely from his chin, eyes, ears; a harrowing sight. A harrowing sound. A murderous sound._

Make it stop...!

_From the mouth of the witch came a sudden shriek, shattering the shield that protected them from her magic and the shackles that bound her._

_All at once, everyone moved. Jean and his brothers were grabbed and lifted into their father's arms; Gwendolyn and Leigh erected smaller shields around themselves; Friedrich and Kaarlo moved to stop Intira._

_Jean never looked away._

_He didn't look away, even when great spurts of blood spewed from Alfred as his body was cut into, shredding him, by some power and force._

_And the screaming stopped._

_Everything that happened next was a blur to Jean. Shouting, rushing, blasts of gunshots, black magic and white magic clashed, making him feel sick, and he and his brothers were suddenly in a corner, shielded by Gwendolyn and Leigh._

_The only screams came from Ulrich, who clung to Tristan. Like Jean, the older boy was deathly silent. Jean leaned heavily against the wall, sheet white and breathing rapidly. Words were muffles, and he could only stare at his uncle's limp body._

_The cuts in Alfred's flesh were deep. Jean could see the whiteness of bone._

_And the blood._

_There was so much blood._

_It leaked out of every orifice, running like streams down his body. From his body, they poured onto the slightly slanted floor to disappear down a drain._

_Jean had seen blood before and lots of it. But this...This was something else._

_How could a person have so much blood in them...?_

_He didn't even notice the sudden quiet that descended in the room, save for Ulrich's cries. The witch was gone, as were their father, grandfather and uncle. There was a distant commotion, something about the witch getting away._

_But that meant nothing._

_All that mattered was the blood. The blood, and the limp body that shook from raspy breaths._

_Alfred was still alive._

_Leigh and Gwendolyn moved to stand near him._

_A soft, withered murmur echoed in Jean's ears. He watched his grandmother shake her head._

_"No. The man I knew as my son is long gone, taken by the influence of inhumans," she said._

_Jean didn't know where his mother obtained a long dagger, but it was suddenly in her hand. "I will do it," she said. "I must do it. Let this be my duty as the future matriarch of this good family."_

_Leigh only nodded._

_"Om chia a zol de olapireta," they murmured together._

_The words hung in the air, even with Ulrich's steadily lessening cries. They cut through the noise, reaching Jean's ears too clearly. They resonated within his mind, sunk deeply into his soul._

_We are the Hands of Light._

_His trembling lips parted to repeat the words, yet no sound came from his mouth._

_Light cut through Darkness. Light destroyed Darkness. Light was the eternal enemy of Darkness, and Darkness was its enemy._

_All who were swayed were cut down._

_He didn't even flinch when his mother's hand moved, the dagger's sharp edge slicing through skin, flesh, and jugulars._

_There was no gagging, no choking. Only more blood._

_Leigh looked away. She said something to Gwendolyn, who shook her head while dropping the dagger._

_She turned to look at Jean and his brothers._

_Jean felt darkness. He now knew darkness. But there was a unique darkness in his mother's eyes that bore into him as she kept eye contact. Calmly, she approached him and his brothers. Her hands were immaculate, free of blood despite her role in killing her brother._

_Jean watched as the horror he called mother kneeled so she was closer to his and his brothers' eye level. She placed one hand on Tristan's shoulder, the other on his._

_"Promise me," she said. Cold blue eyes stared into his, then turned to look at his brothers before returning to stare pointedly into his again. "Promise me you will never repeat his mistake."_

_The world became clear to Jean in that moment. The haze cleared up, his breathing gradually eased. Behind his mother, the bloodied image of his dangling uncle slightly moved from the force that had been inflicted on him._

_His heart hardening, his eyes emptying, Jean's mouth moved automatically. "Yes, ma'am."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Hey, ev'ryone. Just wanted to say something. Thanks for _not_ telling me that my chapters seven and eight were mixed up...That is seriously embarrassing...
> 
> In any case, my hiatus otherwise continues...I'll drag this out for as long as I can. In the meantime, feel free to check out _[Possibilities on a Moonlit Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18678712)_ , a story inspired by and takes place in the same world as _Inhuman_!


	16. Peccatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, Jean and Celezar mate.

Throughout the recount of Jean's memories, tranquility tightly enveloped him. It lulled him into a pleasant state between sleep and consciousness undeterred by the trauma the memories unearthed. During this time, Celezar remained pin-drop quiet. Even his mind, as sensed through their mental link, seemed blank, devoid of a shred of present thoughts. The heartbeats within his chest failed to give a single emotion away. As the memories were told, Jean wanted to know what Celezar thought and how he felt, but his partner did nothing more than gently nuzzle into his hair during the entire recollection.

Jean inhaled softly, not as shakily as before. He relished the comforting warmth enveloping him in the near-silence. The arms around him gently squeezed, and his chest rose and fell as Celezar took a deep breath. Said breath, however, was noticeably sweltering. The beginning thoughts of rage and loathing trickled into his mind from his partner's, and the heated breath continued to brush against him. Stirring from his slight dozing, Jean began to feel uncomfortable from the evident anger Celezar was exhibiting. It certainly wasn't targeted towards him; vague insinuations of Celezar torturing and maiming his family sprinkled in his mind.

After a moment of stillness that seemed to drag out for far too long, Celezar's breath cooled. Muscles Jean hadn't noticed were tense eased. The livid thoughts ceased immediately, as if they were never there. He couldn't even recall if they were real. Tickles of warm emotion steadily swelled within him, causing him to slightly part his lips. Through the siphoning of Celezar's sentiments, he heard wordless articulated thoughts. They told him he was safe, now. Here, in the arms of his partner, with Celezar in his life, no one would hurt him again. His family would get their comeuppance in due time, a thought that, to his own surprise, didn't bother him. It was time to forget about them. It was time to be free.

A wave of release passed through his body, from head to toe, in a shiver. He audibly exhaled, slanting his eyes open at the sudden, merciful relief lifting decades of weight from his shoulders.

"Celezar—" A thumb gently brushed over his lips, silencing him. He glanced up to see Celezar's eyes were also slants, his brows furrowed as he stared off.

Their heads brushed together as Celezar steadily smiled. More wordless thoughts came to Jean's awareness. In response to them, he shifted, allowing Celezar to take his hand and bring him to his feet. He was led towards a waterfall, and an organic thought of his own brought a flush of warmth through his body. Realization of what was coming next subdued all memories of his childhood trauma, causing his blood to grow warmer from anticipation.

They traveled over one last large root, then Celezar let go of his hand before passing under a waterfall. Jean followed, passing through the rushing water. He caught a glimpse of yellow in the darkness of a surprisingly "human-sized" cave dimly lit by small white fungi. Without rush, he followed the yellow, catching more and more glimpses of the patterns on Celezar's body.

Before long, with the soft sponginess of moss underneath his feet, he heard the sound of another waterfall. Passing through the threshold of a particular space beheld yet another incredible sight. A waterfall similar to one from his world fell between two large roots, emptying into a small river that disappeared into the cave. More fungi lit the space, though some swayed slightly from side to side, as if alive.

There, standing atop some moss, stood Celezar. His patterns glowed faintly underneath his wet skin, and his back was to Jean as he faced the waterfall. Uneasiness came to Jean's attention. Celezar was surprisingly unsure of himself.

He came from behind his partner and wrapped his arms around him while closing his eyes. His own wordless emotions and thoughts urged Celezar not to worry. He could sense the smile as Celezar turned. Opening his eyes, he looked into green that stared into the core of his being. He stared back, hoping Celezar could sense his own emotions, sense his desire to bare himself to him. He wanted to put what happened in his memory behind him for good, move forward towards his chosen future.

A smile broke out on the hybrid's face. Darkness rimmed the edges of his sclera as he took Jean's head between his hands. Softly, he murmured, "Do you trust me?"

Jean closed his eyes again.

He trusted Celezar with his life when they met. It was expected as inhuman hunter comrades.

He trusted Celezar with his love once they became partners. It was reciprocated with trust and devotion.

He trusted Celezar, believed in him, even when he discovered Celezar was inhuman. Jean didn't want to, but something told him he always knew the truth even then.

He placed a hand over one that caressed his cheek, opening his eyes as his lips spread into a sincere smile. "I always have."

The green orbs became glassy, but Celezar did not cry. He leaned forward to skim his lips over Jean's and initiated a kiss that was unusually chaste but nonetheless passionate. Knowing what was soon to come, Jean's body completely relaxed. He allowed himself to relish the warm tingles of anticipation beginning to flush his body that sent heat to his nether region. In seconds, his cock was strained in his pants, and he grabbed Celezar's shirt to pull them down to the soft moss.

He suddenly admitted a gasping groan, breaking the kiss. At first confused, Celezar then looked down to see the bulge in his pants. He gave a slant-eyed smile that met an equally pleased grin, looking up into green eyes swallowed by blackness. He wasn't alarmed. Somehow, he knew what this was: pure, nearly unrestrained lust. It set a stronger fire in him, and he shivered with delight.

Celezar captured his lips in another kiss, and he softly moaned with slanted eyes. He watched the faux shirt Celezar wore dissipate into his skin to show his bare chest. Following this, a second pair of arms grew from just underneath his first pair, his shoulders and chest rearranging to accommodate them.

Familiar tendrils emerged from Celezar's back, trailing over Jean's body and slipping under wet clothes. Jean softly exhaled at the strange but pleasant feeling, slightly squirming underneath him. Moving up, trailing saliva from their mouths, Celezar used his tendrils to free Jean of his coat and shirt.

Jean licked his lips, giving a small pant. "How are we doing this?"

Running a hand through his damp hair, Celezar smirked. "However you want it, love. I'm up for anything." His hand lowered, and he caressed the tight tent in Jean's pants.

Softly groaning, Jean gave a small thrust. "No, I meant...how is this going to work?"

"I cannot go into my true form, if that's what you mean." Celezar gave a small apologetic smile. "Not yet. Not until you're fully inhuman."

"Shame..."

The smile widened mischievously. "Isn't it?"

Jean eyed the tendrils. Several more had appeared, but they weren't all attached to Celezar's body. Many emerged from the wood itself, undulating slowly in his direction. They were considerably larger than the already sizable ones coming from Celezar's back, thick and tapered. "What are those?"

"My appendages," Celezar responded, as if it was a simple thing. He lowered over Jean's body, nipping and licking at his bare skin.

Slanting his eyes, Jean enjoyed the stimulation. He placed his hand atop Celezar's head. "Like arms and legs?"

"More like arms," his partner murmured against his skin.

He made a soft grunt when the large hand continued roaming over his clothed erection. "Ah...How is that possible? They aren't even connected to you."

"Don't think about it, love...Think about this."

Jean looked down, and a shiver of arousal swept through him. Somehow, Celezar had slightly lowered his pants, revealing his own large erection that he began to rub against Jean's.

"Fucking...Cree..." Jean murmured with a swallow and watched when his partner freed his cock. He breathed heavily through his nose as their erections rubbed against one another. He began to thrust, as did Celezar, who took his hand to press their glans together.

Chuckling lowly, Celezar turned his blackened gaze on him. "It's been a while," he said breathily. "I missed you."

With slanted eyes overcome with lust, Jean pulled Celezar down to kiss him. "I missed you, too," he groaned against the wet lips. " _Fuck_ , I missed you..."

He stifled a sound of disappointment when Celezar moved his hand away. The hybrid's second pair of hands began to tug Jean's pants off, making him arch so it was easier to do so, while Celezar's first pair roamed over his bare skin. Celezar's movement was slow, gentle, intimate. Every touch brought a shiver of desire and want through Jean's body, and their lips met again in another kiss.

In moments, Jean was completely nude, rubbing his erection against Celezar's abdomen. A low moan blew into his mouth in response. Celezar then broke away, trailing saliva down his lips. The dark eyes were hooded with lust, but a type of lust that was a hundred times more potent than anything Jean saw from Celezar in the past. He shivered with anticipation, watching Celezar's artificial pants meld into his body to fully reveal his lower half.

Continuing to skim over Jean's body, Celezar's tentacles became more animated. Jean noticed through slanted eyes while shivers rolled down his spine that one tentacle in particular seemed to be secreting something, dripping with a slick clear liquid. It was easy to put two and two together, and he raised a brow in appreciation. He did, however, wonder how they were going to do this. Celezar mentally expressed some hesitance, but they had sex before. Aside from the tentacles, how could it possibly be any different now?

His gaze met Celezar's, and more voiceless articulations entered his mind. They were going to do this the old way, in a new way. More than interested, he watched the tendril move to his lower entrance as a smaller ones curled around his cock. They were smooth to an impossibly pleasurable degree. They began to caress him, trailing up and down, causing him to emit a breathy moan and slightly thrust into the slick grasp. He began to respond to the stimulation in his mind when the wet tentacle slid into him all too easily, painlessly. He slightly arched, moaning at the new, wonderfully erotic sensation. With it and the stimulation of his cock, he was easily unraveling with arousal and need.

A low, pleased hum emitted from his partner. One of Celezar's hands lowered to fondle his testicles, and he looked up into a slant-eyed smile as he unwound. A smaller tendril entered his open mouth, curling around his tongue before pulling out to flick at it as his lips remained parted from soft pants.

The tendril within him wasn't even trying to hit his prostate; in fact, it was obviously avoiding it, causing him to push against it. His desperation became louder pants, and he was getting pleasantly warm as his cock and testicles were played with. He shakily exhaled when the tendril within him grew larger before getting small again, then large again, small again, and it did this several times, getting larger and larger every time. He groaned, realizing it was preparing him for it. He wanted to be penetrated, but he was also greatly enjoying Celezar's attention and stimulation. Hands and tentacles roamed over him, and one tendril in particular stroked up and down his scar.

He then noticed a very large tentacle that moved to flick against his side. It was different from all the others, grooved several inches down to its tip which wasn't tapered. Instead, the tip was inverted, giving the tendril a puckered look. He didn't pay much attention to it, as the pleasurable sensation of the other tentacle left him.

He smiled into a kiss as Celezar lowered over him, only to moan into his partner's mouth when a surprisingly heated tip touched his slicked entrance. Gently, slowly, it pushed in, causing his eyes to flicker and for him to break the kiss in a breathy exhale. Celezar always was well-endowed. It made more sense now. Infernals were renowned for their large phalluses.

The thought brought a smile to his face, and he reached to kiss Celezar tenderly. A soft chuckle was made, and he smirked. Wordless thoughts, ones of amusement and acknowledgement, tickled his mind. Just as he began to soundlessly respond, he parted from the kiss when his head tilted back, and his lips parted as Celezar began to move.

Immediately, his prostate was hit, causing him to let out a gasp of pleasure. That always happened, every single time. He groaned, placing his hand around Celezar's head, and the hybrid responded by lowering to lick and suck on his neck. That only sent additional shivers down his back, and he rolled his eyes up to stare hazily at the cave's ceiling.

Celezar moved slowly, intimately. Jean heard the unsaid words with ever undulation of his partner's body. Celezar was happy, so pleased to share true intimacy with him again. The emotions running through them both brought tears to Jean's eyes. The trust, the love; it was somehow different. It was truer than all the previous times, different for all the right reasons.

He placed a hand on Celezar's lower back, panting and moaning softly. Celezar seemed to like this, as he nipped at his neck with pleased hums. Wordlessly, he asked for Celezar to move faster, harder. The thought was met by an eager comply. He grasped harder onto him when the gentle thrusts became hard pounds, increasing the already simmering pressure and warmth within him.

Resting his legs on Celezar's thighs to keep himself in place, he idly ran his fingers over the tendrils coming from Celezar's back. Celezar emitted a stuttering sound against his skin, moving faster. His eyes fluttered, and his mouth opened wide as heat from Celezar's cock grew within him. The tendrils were flickering excitedly, Celezar's skin was turning darker and the hands at the sides of Jean's head were developing black claws. Jean relished the sound of Celezar's pants in his ear, glad he could bring his partner to an evidently greater state of pleasure.

However, he was sure he couldn't hold out much longer from the additional heat. Celezar slightly raised up, his black tongue elongating to replace the tentacle that had been caressing Jean's largest scar. Gently, the muscle licked the marred skin, and Jean sharply panted at the tingling pleasure, grasping onto the large ribbed tentacle that undulated nearby. Abruptly, Celezar's eyes rolled back, and he emitted a loud, sighing grunt. Eyes black as night with a distant shine in their depths slanted from intense pleasure. Glowing yellow cracks within Celezar's skin began to form around them, and he threw his head back with a growl, his teeth turning into canines. From the conversation in their minds, Jean understood this tentacle was important. Him touching it was bringing Celezar overwhelming pleasure.

Jean groaned as his body rocked faster from the hard thrusts, and another tentacle snaked into his open, panting mouth. Saliva trailed down his neck as it went all the way down his throat, but he could still breathe. It brought him to his tipping point, and he tensed as he came hard. His eyes rolled back, and he gave a grunt around the tendril, only to groan loudly when heat entered his body from both the tendril down his throat and Celezar's cock.

He abruptly arched when his pleasure spiked from the heat, and as Celezar lowered his head, he clung his arms around his partner's neck while climaxing once more. He felt at the last moment that a tendril was encased around his cock, taking in his seed as it spurted free. Celezar's body shivered while breathing over Jean's parted lips, and the rolling vibrations ran pleasantly through Jean's body.

As he came down from his climax, Jean felt an unusual sensation present in his mind. It wasn't unpleasant. It was Celezar...but not. He didn't bother thinking too deeply about it, didn't have the mind to do so.

Celezar gave one last, gentle thrust, then went still. In their minds, Jean felt them sharing their experience, letting the other know the pleasure they gave each other and how much it was appreciated. He slightly shivered, then moved to greedily capture Celezar's lips in a kiss. A soft, knowing chuckle echoed in his mind, and he felt the rush of heat pulse to his groin. He opened his eyes to stare into green orbs that were slowly overtaken by black again. Smirking, he raised a brow in understanding.

Celezar gyrated suggestively before giving another, quick thrust that made him moan with spiking arousal. That was unusual...but not unwanted.

It was going to be a long night.


	17. To Keep Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean returns to Isle Veni and makes a tough decision that stirs some dissent amongst his men.

Slowly, life returned to Jean's awareness. First was the strong presence enveloping him, the softness beneath his body, the smell of fresh moss, and the sound of rushing water. His right hand was engulfed in warmth, and he smiled while opening his eyes. Gossamer white light met his sight along with the wall of the cave. Focusing, he saw his limp hand entwined with another and felt pleasant hit on his back. His smile widened when the body behind him shifted and lips skimmed over his neck.

He softly sighed with contentment, satisfied with the peacefulness that surrounded him. But something felt different. As if aware of this, the being in his presence remained still, letting him reorient himself and absorb the change. He couldn't pinpoint how he felt different, but as a hunter, he was required to notice slight changes in his body. He would or might have been concerned if he hadn't been told to expect this.

At the recollection of what brought about the change, a slight shiver ran through him followed by a chuckle in his ear. Deep rumbling reverberated through him from the body at his back along with the sense of smug satisfaction.

"Good morning, love."

The voice spoke into his ear, causing him to shiver once more. "Morning. It's still morning?"

A soft chuckle was made, and a kiss was planted on his skin. "Indeed. It's roughly five o' clock."

He hummed, clutching the hand tighter. "Not bad."

"Not at all...all things considered."

He grinned at the following soft laugh, feeling the warm breath tickle him. "I'm surprised at how rejuvenated I feel. We must have only slept for a few hours."

"We did. Roughly three."

He softly hummed at the thought. Normally, he could only last a few rounds alongside Celezar's insatiable sexual appetite and stamina. It didn't take much to consider he was already beginning to change and had the moment Celezar's essence entered his body. But to go at it for so long...

He turned to face Celezar, smiling into slanted olive eyes shining with happiness. Auburn hair was draped messily over Celezar's face, his expression a contented smile. Jean reached to gently brush some strands of Celezar's locks out of the hybrid's face, bringing a wider smile to his face. Celezar moved to rest his forehead against Jean's, their gazes never breaking.

Words weren't said. They weren't needed.

All was as it should be.

Celezar's eyes flickered. They focused on Jean's blind eye. Jean watched as a finger touched his left eye, and Celezar's expression slowly dropped with shame.

He took Celezar's hand, continuing to look into the green orbs. The eyes briefly lowered before meeting his gaze again. He brought the fingers to his lips and kissed them, causing the eyes to water. Wordlessly, he captured the hybrid's lips in a kiss. Arms enveloped him, holding him close, tenderly, protectively.

 _Safe_.

The word rang in his mind like a mantra. But it was true. He was safe here, in the arms of his mate.

His mate.

He gently moved back to brush the tears from Celezar's face. The slanted green eyes seemed almost sleepy along with the happy little smile on their owner's face, and he softly chuckled.

" _Sleep, love_."

The presence in his mind was different from telepathy, but he heard Celezar's voice loud and clear along with it.

He closed his eyes, cuddling into the encompassing warmth with a soft sigh.

" _I'll take care of everything_."

~::~

Awareness returned a second time with a start. Jean's eyes opened and he snapped upright upon realizing he must have overslept.

Then he blinked.

What was he doing back in his room at the Memorraw? He was under the sheets and lying beside Celezar, who appeared to be fast asleep. The hybrid wasn't breathing, so it was a true sleep, and he was on his side with his arm resting limply atop Jean's abdomen.

Jean looked to his left at the clock on the bedside table. It was, shockingly, only nearly five-thirty in the morning. There was plenty of time for him to shower, dress and make it to the mess hall. There was the matter of the horse he had borrowed, but...

A soft smile pulled at his lips. It was likely that Celezar indeed took care of everything. He lowered to gently brush some auburn hair aside and kiss a freckled temple. "Thank you, Zarryel," he murmured.

To his surprise, he was rewarded with a single, contented sigh before his mate went still again.

He moved from the bed and into the shower. Under the barrage of warm water, he idly touched his large scar, trailing his hand down his left eye to his navel. He recalled Celezar licking it tenderly every time they mated in the earlier day and the night before. It could pass as completely healed.

After exiting the shower and dressing, he watched his mate sleep while pulling on his gloves. He then lowered his hands, exhaling softly from his nose.

For now, he would let Celezar sleep. He glanced at his bag before leaving the room. He could pack after breakfast.

During the trek to the mess hall, he seldom recognized the faces he saw about. So many had left the day before after the meeting. It was truly a shame. All the bravado and skill, yet the meeting only proved how dysfunctional the Clovuren hunters were as a community. Much as he hated to admit it again, Caden was right. But Jean was planning on changing that.

The mess hall was so sparsely occupied he could easily spot certain hunter leaders and their seconds-in-command. His expression lightened upon seeing Euphemia at a distance. To his pleasant surprise, not only was she present with her second-in-command and younger sister Jolie but was also with Artie and Sarkis.

After choosing his breakfast, he moved to sit with them.

Upon seeing him, Jolie smiled widely and waved. "Jean!"

Nodding towards his companions, he sat beside Euphemia at the empty end of the table with her. Sarkis and Artie sat on the opposite side. "Gentlefolk. How are we this morning?"

"Alive," chuckled Euphemia.

"Just barely," Artie added with a small scowl.

When Jean's brows furrowed with confusion, Jolie nudged her head towards Artie. "As he said. Just barely, after what happened, yesterday."

Jean frowned. "I imagine this has nothing to do with the meeting."

"It doesn't." Sarkis glanced around before returning his gaze at his food.

Euphemia glanced at Jean. "Honestly, I'm not sure what to make of what happened, myself. Shaw picked a fight with Holloway a while after the meeting, and that went over about as well as you can imagine."

The leader of the Shaw Hunters was Gillian, who was one of the people silent during the meeting. Jean didn't think much of him at the time, but this was something he would do. In fact, Jean was surprised it didn't happen immediately after the meeting ended.

One could sum up Gillian with one word: violent. He was another of the most "brutal" hunters known in Clovure. In fact, they were overall antagonistic.

If nothing else, the Lowell Hunters were at least friendly with others.

"Exactly what happened?" Jean asked, beginning to eat.

Artie and Euphemia exchanged glances. Jolie pursed her lips while Sarkis softly scoffed. Not at all reassuring reactions.

"In good ol' Shaw fashion, he went after Holloway and demanded he kill his man, Sylvestar," Euphemia explained. At Jean's astounded expression, she raised her hands. "Shaw felt Holloway needed to set an example as the government's hunters, so he needed to be 'immaculate'. The man even _offered_ to kill Sylvestar if Holloway couldn't do it."

"Cree," Jean exhaled.

Artie made a sputtering scoff. "Apparently, Holloway's sensitive about that thing, because he put up a damn good fight that would have gone on for a while if the creature itself hadn't shown up and literally scared Shaw off."

Jean tried to picture this in his mind. He almost wished he could have seen it. But at the same time...maybe not. From the conversation he had with Caden, the man did seem to be sensitive about Sylvestar. Thinking about it, however, Jean suddenly wished he could speak to this human-turned-inhuman. What was his story? What were his experiences—aside from the obvious ostracizing and contempt?

Leaning forward, Artie stared into Jean's eyes. "I heard that thing _talk_ , Jean. Guttural, hissing. And the _way_ it talked to Holloway; it was as if it revered the man. It called him 'master'!"

Slanting his eyes, Jean's lips tightened. Vampires did have a hierarchy. For Sylvestar to believe Caden was above him was...unusual.

"If that isn't weird enough, Holloway didn't like it doing that, calling him master. The thing would have chased after Shaw and his man if Holloway didn't call it off. Then, to make it all the more astonishingly disturbing, it returned to Holloway and _bowed_ before him and apologized for 'disobeying' him!" Wound up, Artie waved his hand. "If I hadn't seen it with my own _eyes_ , Jean!"

Setting down his fork, Jean propped his hands up to lace his fingers together. He looked past his cousin in thought. Sylvestar was becoming increasingly interesting.

Euphemia cleared her throat, briefly glancing at him. She spread her hands out, as if to calm them down. "In any case...we're alive. Nothing bad happened. Shaw is gone. Left immediately afterwards, cursing Holloway all the while."

A sudden and unexpected silence overcame the table. Everyone went back to eating, the rush of emotions beginning to simmer from both Artie and Sarkis; the latter of who's? emotions were clearly on display even though he remained quiet.

Jean continued to stare off in thought, then looked at his two men. "In any case," he exhaled, lowering his hands to continue eating, "we're leaving after breakfast."

"Sent," Artie and Sarkis said in unison.

Euphemia nudged Jean. "I still want to catch up with you."

Having forgotten about that, Jean paused. "Ah...How about on the way to the hangar? We can take the long way. We have to get our bags, anyway."

She pursed her lips as she looked away in thought but nodded. "You go ahead after we eat, too," she said to her sister.

"Sent, sis."

They finished eating in relative silence after that. As he ate, Jean continued to think about Sylvestar. Without needing clarification, he knew Sylvestar was the same species as the creature that killed his men, a Nosferatu. Jean throat suddenly tightened. Maybe if he had known of Sylvestar sooner, or maybe if he wasn't the brutally callous inhuman hunter he once was, he might have been able to save his men...At least one of them.

Quickly retreating from those thoughts, he focused back on eating.

Afterward, he and Euphemia broke away from their companions, who went the shortest route to the hangar. He said his goodbye to Jolie before she left, then walked out the mess hall with Euphemia by his side.

He looked her over, as if for the first time. She looked so much like her brother. All of the Laws had a distinct appearance, black hair and fair skin with sienna-brown eyes. The Laws themselves were a family friend of the Lowells. Jean grew up knowing them, but after the death of their only son, Jasper, the families unintentionally lost contact.

Silence persisted between them for the initial few minutes out of the mess hall, but it was companionable. They began their walk down the wide hall towards one of many staircases that would take them to the barracks.

"So, tell me," she said at last, looking up at him. "How have you really been, aside from that whole business with the Celezar thing?" Her expression somewhat darkened after she said the hybrid's name.

Jean shrugged, but it was with a sigh. "Surviving. Life at the isle is the same as it's always been, otherwise. I admittedly haven't seen my mother in a while, despite the fact we live not even a mile from one another. We've just been busy thanks to this whole devil and...whatever-it-is business."

She nodded, a crease between her brows. "Yeah. I can't believe that happened to you all. But, you survived, as you say."

He briefly glanced away. Wanting to drop the subject, he motioned to her garb. "And you? When did your family give in to letting you and Jolie become hunters?"

Looking smug, she cracked her hands before her. "Well, it was a long time coming. Jasper couldn't be the only hunter in my generation, so Jolie, Ciel, Eliza, and I been in training since I was fifteen."

"Really? How did that get by me?"

"Like you paid any sort of attention to me growing up," she teased.

He shortly laughed. "I apologize."

Waving a hand, she said, "It's all in the past, anyway. It's nice we managed to meet up again as fellow hunters."

"Yeah. How's that working out for you, being a hunter?"

She laughed. "I have scars, been knocked around, bled; the usual loveliness."

He was almost sorry to hear that. "And how's the family?"

"Much like yours, nothing really new. Thank the Creator for that. Uncle Henri's been working hard as a mentor to us, but he's going to retire, soon."

"Good. Wouldn't want to lose him."

She nodded with firm agreement. "Absolutely."

Their conversation eventually lightened considerably. By the time they arrived at the barracks, Jean's mind swam with memories good and bad from many years ago, long before seven years ago. Long before eight years ago, even; the good old days.

He and Euphemia momentarily split to get their belongings. Upon approaching his room, he sensed Celezar come to life within his mind. Smiling to himself, he unlocked and entered the room.

The small space smelled strongly of earth after a rainfall and...something else. As the door closed behind him, his eyes raked over the form of his mate who stood topless with his back to him. A white towel was over the wet auburn hair, and shining olive green eyes focused on him as Celezar turned around.

"Hey, Jeanie-boy," he said, a mischievous purr in his voice. He sauntered towards him, a black tongue raking over his teeth. The towel was thrown into a laundry hamper.

Scanning him, Jean broke out into a lopsided smile. The moment Celezar was close enough, he took a single step forward to meet the incoming kiss. His already parted lips were spread open further by that tongue, which slipped into his mouth and stroked his insides. He shivered, exhaling deeply with contentment.

He was pushed back against the door and didn't fight it. He freely allowed his senses to be overwhelmed by the sensations of his mate. Rough fingertips trailed under his shirt, tentacles stroked his legs beneath his pants. Every touch sent marvelous tingles through his body. That was different...in a good way. A very good way.

Quickly, he was becoming aroused. How could he not? He didn't even think about Euphemia, explicitly content with the person in his company. He didn't need anyone else, in the moment. He didn't want anyone else.

Celezar chuckled softly into the kiss, then gently pulled away to inhale his soft pants and brush their lips together. "Weren't you going to go on a _date_ with your friend?" he murmured.

Groaning, Jean pulled him closer into another kiss. "I don't want to."

A look of understanding overcame his mate's face. "Mm, I know, love..." He brushed his hand down Jean's cheek. "But. You said you would. You already started to. You have to."

"Fuck." Jean forcibly tore away, his gaze anywhere but on Celezar. As he had started breathing heavily, he tried to calm the warmth that began to simmer in his blood. "This is all your fault."

Placing a hand against the door, Celezar teasingly chuckled, "My fault? How so?"

"I know I've started to change."

"Mm hm?"

"So, this is your fault. I want you more than usual."

"My love, you forget we _did_ spend about, oh, sixteen hours doing nothing but mating. And in an inhuman world, at that. You've simply become accustomed to it."

"That, too, is your fault."

Celezar only laughed.

"I was fine when I woke up."

"Ah, I love you, Jean," Celezar sighed. He brushed Jean's hair aside and kissed his forehead.

The kiss spread a soothing sensation through Jean's body, much like a sprinkle of dirt to calm the beginnings of fire within him. He took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes.

He then looked up at his mate. The most adoring expression stared upon him, green eyes sparkling with life and love. It was too satisfied. Too content at the catch that was _his_ love. Steadily, he smiled, and Celezar leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss.

A tendril handed him his packed bag, and only then did he realize the room was organized and otherwise clean. Shaking his head, he took the bag and turned to open the door.

As he stepped out, it was Basker who followed after him.

Euphemia was waiting for him near the operator's desk. Upon seeing him and Basker, her expressionless face brightened. "Aw, Basker. I'm sorry he woke you up so early," she gushed.

After returning his room key at the desk, Jean's eyebrow rose as he watched the amiable dog approach her with a wagging tail. Well, that made a good alibi to explain why he took so long.

He and Euphemia continued conversing on their way to the hangar. They made a brief stop on the main floor to let Basker run free outside for a few minutes.

Unsurprisingly, the topic of Elaine came up during their conversation.

"You can't be serious, Jean," Euphemia tut, her gaze pointedly observing Basker.

Jean softly exhaled. He, too, watched the dog run.

"How are ideals like that any different from the ones my family has?" She scoffed under her breath. "Had, rather."

He couldn't argue against that. The Laws, like his family, had strict beliefs in gender roles. They were often called adnuntors because of that, a slur given to people who had such beliefs amongst other ideals. From his understanding, his family publicly called themselves "sympathizers" to the adnuntor beliefs.

It was because of this Elaine was unable to live her dream to be a hunter. But Euphemia was once the same.

"It's not up to me," he finally said. "It's up to her family."

"But _you're_ the Lowell Hunter leader," Euphemia countered. "It is up to you. If you take her in, there's nothing anyone could say against it! You know how much clout a hunter leader has, particularly in your family."

Caught in a corner, he mentally swore. A soft chuckle was made in his mind, bringing a frown to his face.

" _Give her a chance, love_."

Watching Basker approach, Jean turned his frown onto him. Euphemia lowered to pet him, and Jean caught the slight flash of green in the dark eyes.

Really. Even his mate was on about this.

Nothing of Elaine was brought up again as the three of them arrived at the hangar. The only aircrafts within belonged to a few scattered hunters Jean wasn't too familiar with, Caden, and the Laws and Lowells. Both of the latter jets' engines were running, the whirring? of their motors reverberating in the enclosed space.

As they entered the massive space, Euphemia sighed. Her gaze was upon the Lowell jet. "Well. I guess this is goodbye, for a while."

He focused on her. For the first time, he noticed a lingering sadness that radiated from her. He never really paid attention to it before. Looking back on it, he always knew it was there. "What's wrong, Euphie?"

Her lips pursed. "Oh. Just..."

Too many expressions fluttered across her face. He saw regret, sorrow, and fleeting joy. He didn't know what could possibly cause it, other than things they had already spoken about. Naturally, they missed her brother. But this had to be something else.

Patiently, he waited.

She softly exhaled. Her expression became a mask; never before did he think it was one. Now it seemed so obvious. She turned a smile on him, one that didn't meet her eyes. "Nothing. I'm going to miss you."

He deliberately met her gaze. She figured what he was saying and waved it off. She was "fine". Without hesitation, he pulled her into a gentle embrace. She startled at first, then returned it, relaxing. He didn't know what was wrong but hoped she would let him or someone else know, one day. "Take care, Euphie. I want to see you grow into an old woman."

She laughed as they parted, pointing to his scar. "You too, Jean. Old and decrepit."

He scoffed, hauling his bag over his shoulder, and saluted. She gave one back, and he smiled before turning around with Basker at his side.

Sarkis and Artie were conversing when they entered the jet. Artie sat at the bar with Sarkis sitting at one of the front seats.

Artie shook his head. "Well, did you go all around the outpost or what?"

Jean held a hand up as he yielded. "Might as well have, yes. Bask needed a moment outside, too."

Upon seeing said dog, Sarkis made a smile. "It's always nice when hunter groups have animals." He lowered a hand as Basker approached for him to sniff. Once he was found agreeable, he gently pet him.

Jean watched this interaction with his head slightly cocked to the side. It was just too bizarre to see two inhumans interacting in such a manner.

As the jet began to turn to the airstrip, Sarkis decided to take the back space. Jean sat near his cousin, buckling his seatbelt.

"So, Jean."

"Hm."

Artie shifted, looking at him. "What should we do to combat the rise in Infernal activity? I've been thinking about it, about what was said yesterday." He shook his head dismissively. "There's no reason for anyone to take drastic actions such as working with inhumans."

Jean remained quiet, lacing his fingers together.

The silence told Artie just what he needed to know. Aghast, he leaned back. "Jean! Don't tell me you're seriously considering Holloway's words!"

Jean cast a glance at his cousin, then looked forward. "I have been giving some critical thought to Caden's words. I've come to a difficult answer, and yes, it involves an inhuman."

"There's no way the men are going to agree to working with one!"

"The men aren't going to have a choice, not anymore than I have one." At Artie's sudden silence, Jean let out a deep and patient exhale. "We currently have little other options. We need a solution that is quick, even if it isn't what we want."

"But remember what Frye and Reznick said? Human might, human power, is the answer."

"Artie, we don't have time to train and make our magic more powerful. Also, our human might dwindled long ago. There used to be many humans with latent abilities like Butch and Raphael, and we are blessed with two such people in our group. But that isn't the case with most other humans."

He saw the scowl out the corner of his eye. "You'd rather put your faith in inhumans than your own kind, Jean?"

Anger flushed through Jean's body at this remark, and he glared harshly into Artie's eyes. " _Never_ say that again. _Ever_."

"But with the way you—"

"I am telling the brutal truths. Nothing more." He turned away to look out the window at his left side.

The jet was on the airstrip, seconds away from liftoff. As it began to rise into the air, he massaged his forehead. He was at a true loss of what to do next. If they didn't already know an inhuman—Celezar—what would his old self do in this situation? What would his old self do in this predicament in general? It was infuriating that he had no idea.

Lowering his hand, he sighed. "We'll go into the archives—again. Maybe we missed something."

Artie calmed. "Yes. We're the Lowells, Jean. We have to be powerful enough for something like this, even if we're unaware of it."

Privately, Jean doubted it. At least to some degree.

All his life, he went believing his family was of an echelon of humans unlike the overwhelmingly vast majority. Magic-users. Spellcasters. Descendants of the mighty Alan Lowell and hunters down to the blood in their veins. They had the supernatural skill and ability to combat inhumans, and this made them superior. A necessity to humankind. Proud and powerful.

But ever since Celezar revealed himself to them, Jean had come to steadily realize that his family was nowhere near as powerful as he was raised to believe. How was it that the descendants of Alan Lowell could go for so long, so many decades, not knowing of the other classes and kinds of inhumans, not knowing of the beings that they could not defeat with all their human might?

How did Alan possibly become the famed inhuman hunter of his time as a human being?

" _You're on to something, love_."

He glanced at Basker lying near his feet.

The dog remained still. " _But your family has more secrets than you can imagine_."

Somewhat concerned, somewhat glad to hear it, Jean asked, " _What are they?_ "

" _We'll talk about it when we have a private moment. Also, I may have to do something later._ "

Jean mentally acknowledged this, then reached down to gently stroke through the dog's black hair. "What if our magic isn't strong enough? What should we do, then, if we encounter the devil and the other creature again?" he asked aloud. "Or what if another hunter group does and they call for help?"

"Tell me you're thinking aloud," Artie muttered.

"No. Artie, I'm a leader— _we_ are leaders. We need to think of everything to protect our own. That includes the unpleasant things."

Artie didn't respond, but Jean knew he was thinking about it. That was a start.

Jean didn't fall asleep during the flight back to Isle Veni. There was too much on his mind and a lingering feeling Artie wasn't done with their conversation despite remaining quiet.

After the jet landed, Jean caught sight of his cousin's face, a disgruntled visage with furrowed brows. That wasn't counting Sarkis, whose expression he couldn't see yet. At the realization Sarkis was able to hear their conversation, Jean had to wonder what was going through the man's mind. As the co-pilot lowered the stairs, Basker was the first to move, followed by Jean and then Artie and Sarkis. Down the steps, Jean heard his cousin exhale behind him.

"How could we possibly come upon an inhuman strong enough to fight against a devil?" Artie asked, muttering.

Jean didn't answer.

The same black and brown car was waiting for them to take to the Cellar. They left their bags to the driver and entered with Basker sitting between Jean and Artie. Sarkis sat behind them. Seeming to be in deep thought, Artie idly petted the dog. The car began to move, and Jean looked out the window. His cousin continued to mutter.

"What, is there some kind of 'good inhuman place' we can just take our picking of a _possible_ inhuman ally?" Artie continued while staring forward.

Casually, Jean answered, "I'll ask Crowley."

With narrowing eyes, Artie went silent, just as Jean knew he would. Basker softly chuckled in Jean's mind. His lips spread into a complacent little smile, and he continued to watch the green land roll past from out the window.

The sun was just rising, spreading light over the isle's expansive fields and bringing along with it the beginnings of early spring warmth. Upon a hill in the near distance stood the massive Lowell Manor, its grey exterior slipping away as the sunlight revealed its true white color. Despite himself, Jean found it to be marveling, in a way. The manor was over two hundred years old, built by his ancestors when they decided to make the isle a haven for their bloodline, a place where no inhumans would dare tread.

The irony of that, of course, was how the Lowells had part-inhuman servants since far longer than that. He supposed they had to come along when the family relocated.

He softly scoffed to himself as they distanced themselves from the manor and neared the Cellar.

The car stopped a respectable distance from the outpost's entrance. Before the men were on their feet, the driver already had their bags out the trunk with inhuman speed. Jean gave them a subtle nod of thanks as he took his bag. Both Artie and Sarkis, on the other hand, completely ignored the driver. Artie then stormed into the outpost while Sarkis lingered, looking at the building's exterior.

"You might want to go after Artie," said Jean to him. "He can show you around downstairs and where to put your things."

Sarkis nodded and moved to do that. Jean watched after him, sighing to himself. From where he stood, he could see Raphael and Butch playing cards at the poker table. With Basker at his heels, he passed through the threshold and observed them for a moment. They didn't so much as acknowledge him, their eyes focused on their cards. Their poker faces were impressive.

Jean crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. "Gentlemen."

Their heads turned to him at the same time. "Hey, Boss," said Raphael. "Welcome back."

"How was the meeting?" Butch asked, lowering his cards face down.

"Oh, just peachy. Anger, blasphemy, and Holloway's a son of a bitch," Artie said, walking down the staircase with Sarkis behind him.

Both men raised amused eyebrows. "Couldn't have been that bad," said Butch.

"It was that bad," Jean confirmed. "How have things been since we left?"

Raphael let out a long exhale, also lowering his cards as he leaned back. "We've been on three hunts since you left. We returned from one before you arrived, and Nicholae and Friedrich are back on one now."

Slightly narrowing his eyes, Jean observed them. They seemed tired. He softly swore and brought his bag into his office with him. Dropping it on the floor beside his desk, he picked up the Manilla envelope with Friedrich's handwriting on it. He didn't sit his chair as he skimmed over the reports. Steadily, his eyes grew wide, horrified to read some of the men were partaking on hunts even after being badly injured.

Lowering the paper, he rushed through the anteroom and past the double-doors into the sickbay. Verne was within his office, and Jean moved to stand in the doorway. "Verne, how has moral been since I was gone?"

Blinking up at him from his desk, the doctor took a second to respond. "Not too well, in truth. It has overall steadily declined since the incident in Ridridge."

Without responding, Jean turned and left. Basker was interacting with Raphael and Butch near the table, and neither man seemed to notice their leader's distress.

Jean returned to his office. He immediately reached for and picked up his phone to dial a seldom-used number.

After a few rings, someone picked up. " _Crowley Hunters. Clancy speaking._ "

Jean hoped to speak to Alister, but this would have to do. "Clancy, I know this is an unusual question, but is there a place where...allied or good inhumans reside?"

For a good second, there wasn't a response. Then, like a delayed reaction, Clancy sputtered a scoff. " _Now, why in the name of the Goddess would I tell maniacs like you Lowells such a thing?_ "

While he expected such a response, Jean glanced towards the door. Basker was standing there. Without prompt, the door somehow and gently closed as the dog entered the room.

Moving to sit at his desk, Jean softly explained, "I've changed my stance on inhumans, Clancy. I'm looking for allies."

" _Give me one reason I should believe you_."

Jean once more glanced at Basker, this time for aid.

The dog tilted his head to the side. " _Tell him you know Alister is inhuman and that I told you so._ "

Opening his mouth to say just that, Jean suddenly paused. Alister was inhuman...? Thinking back on the conversation he had with him, maybe that was what the man—or, rather, inhuman—was trying to say. Alister even said he _trusted_ him. Astounded, Jean took a moment to answer Clancy. After another second, during which he realized this also meant the Crowley Hunters knew his mate, he said, "Celezar told me Alister is inhuman."

Once more, there was silence on the other end of the line.

"I also went to Hallowed Ground. Celezar is my mate."

The long silence dragged out. Jean glanced over to see Celezar himself standing near. He didn't look alarmed, so Jean remained calm, waiting patiently.

There was then a chuckle in his ear. " _Welcome, Jean, to the life as a tosser_ ," said Alister with humor evident in his voice.

Jean scoffed but smiled.

" _Meet me at the Lander Airport in Kansas as soon as you can. I know exactly why you're calling. You might also want to bring along another witness; I imagine you've been through enough and I know your decision to ally with inhumans is a difficult one, possibly even endangering to your life_ ," Alister continued.

Surprised by the man's consideration, Jean didn't quite know how to respond in any other way but the simplest one. "I'll do that. I'll call back and let you know a date and time. Thank you, Alister."

" _My pleasure. Take care, Jean._ "

"You, too." Jean lowered and hung up the phone, exhaling softly. He sensed Celezar was closer to him and turned into a surprise kiss. Smiling into it, he parted his lips, eyelids fluttering when a slick tongue entered his mouth.

"I changed my mind," Celezar said as he gently broke away. "I'll wait until we leave to show you that thing I was going to bring you."

"I don't think I'd like it if you left my side, anyway." Jean nuzzled Celezar's cheek, earning himself a knowing little smirk. He was well-aware he normally didn't do that, but it felt so natural.

Things were about to become a bit ugly once he told his men his decision to have an inhuman ally, but he was planning on making things easy for them. He could only hope their stubborn asses would understand he was doing this for their sakes.

~::~

Not an hour later, the whirs of a helicopter came to Jean's attention. It was nearing the outpost. He stood from his chair and left his office to move to the main entrance. With him stood Raphael, Butch and Hugh. Their hair fluttered about their faces as they watched, only for each of their eyes to widen when the injured forms of Musa and Lucas were aided out of the helicopter. Trevor was bleeding from a head wound. All of the men were nearly covered in blood, but by the color, it wasn't theirs. At Musa's screams, Hugh immediately raced to the sickbay to alert Verne, and Jean, Raphael and Butch moved out of the way so the other men could enter.

Jean turned on his microphone. "What was it?" he immediately asked Friedrich, walking by his uncle's side as they neared to the sickbay.

Friedrich deeply scowled. "A Demon Duke in Iroquin. We were aided by the Burchard Hunters but had to fight against its fucking lackeys and just made it without having any worse injuries on both sides."

Terror spiking to his throat, Jean raced ahead to come nearer to his injured men. It was their first encounter with a Demon Duke, a sub-classification of A-Class Infernals that could summon lessers to them, since the increase began. If his men didn't have aid from another group, the chance of having dire casualties was high.

But at least it wasn't a Devil Lord?. He lost his father to one.

Musa had the worst injuries, his left arm nigh shredded and showing bone clear as day. He was barely conscious at all but was enough so that he could cry out in pain. He was immediately brought into the operation room. Lucas was clutching his left side, breathing with difficulty from the pain he was in. Blood had completely soaked his shirt and upper pants, but Jean couldn't quite tell what sort of injury he had.

To Nicholae, who stood at the twin doors with a grimace, Jean ordered, "Get Artie, Sarkis and the others."

"Sarkis?" Nicholae asked in the motion to leave.

"He's the new member."

Nodding, the older man swiftly left. Standing in the aisle, Jean watched as Friedrich, Hugh, Verne, Robin, and Calvin immediately went to work as the medical officers in the group. Verne, Friedrich and Calvin disappeared into the operation room to care for Musa, whose screams were still audible; there were places they could go to clean up before aiding in the operation. Hugh tended to Lucas while Robin tended to Trevor's wound. The other men were close at the lower portion of the sickbay. Artie and the others from different parts of the outpost also entered.

Jean looked back at them and approached, briefly looking at Lucas, before addressing them. "I need to talk to you all. It is of utmost importance..." He sounded distracted.

Artie's face slightly contorted in distaste before immediately smoothing out. Of course, he was still irritated over Jean's decision. Jean didn't acknowledge him.

Exhaling deeply, Jean ran a hand through his hair. This wasn't exactly the best time to converse with them. Slightly turning to Lucas' table, he asked, "Are you good for conversation, Lucas?"

Taking in sharp breaths, the brunet shook his head. He was lying back on the bloody bed.

Lips tightening, Jean turned back to the uninjured men. "Very well. I hate to do this now, but it's important." He took in a sudden breath, swallowing his fears when Musa's cries slowed before ceasing. He wasn't the only one who held their breath, as some of the men's eyes darted to the operation room doors.

When nothing happened, when no one exited the room to deliver bad news, normal breathing resumed.

"Firstly." Jean motioned to the newest member of his group. "This is Sarkis Buscan."

The older man nodded at his fellow hunters, who gave him friendly nods in return.

Jean briefly closed his eyes. "Secondly, I've come to a decision, a tough one. If things go as they are, we may end up dead all too easily. Since this increase of Infernal activity began, we've dealt with a devil, an unidentifiable, ungodly powerful creature, and now a Demon Duke in less than a month?. That is...unheard of. During the meeting, Holloway mentioned, recommended and demonstrated inhuman aid." Jean paused at the dark, aghast expressions that formed on the faces before him. "Therefore, I have decided to take up the offer. We have little other options."

Artie remained quiet, glancing off at nothing in particular. Jean briefly eyed him, then Sarkis. It was evident his new comrade was on edge, though all that gave it away were his tightly locked jaw and slightly narrow-eyed stare.

"You can't be serious, Jean!" Hugh shouted from behind them. Jean didn't turn but did glance back.

"Isn't that just as dangerous?" Butch asked with crossed arms. He looked about as eager as Sarkis did. "We aren't inhuman-loving hunters," he all but spat.

Nicholae frowned at his fellow veteran. "That's not what Jean is saying. We don't _have_ to love them."

"Does it matter?"

"I can see how this sounds like a good idea," said Robin from behind Jean, "but there has to be another way. Can't you and Artie train to become more powerful magic-users?"

"Yeah, but how long would that take?" Trevor asked before hissing in pain.

"What if we or someone else comes upon such powerful creatures again? We wouldn't have time," said Nicholae, echoing words similar to what Jean said to Artie.

Gulliver softly scoffed. "If Darryl were here—"

"Don't even finish that sentence," Nicholae snapped.

Immediately, Gulliver backed off, but he seemed disheartened, at a loss of what to do or say.

Noticing this, Nicholae calmed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We don't know what Darryl would do in this situation."

Nodding, Gulliver looked away. "What happened at the meeting about this?"

Jean closed his eyes, remaining silent.

After a moment, Artie spoke up. "Much was said. There was talk of using magic, of course, but...truthfully that would take time to work up to at the moment. Holloway gave his blessing to subjugate and control inhumans. He even had an inhuman he had subjugated, a man who was once human named Sylvestar." The scowl was evident in his voice.

Nicholae began, "That's..."

"Unlike him," Butch finished.

"But it is different from asking inhumans for help," said Robin, his voice tentative.

Hugh and Lucas made choking sounds of outrage.

"Listen," the younger hunter began defensively, "how is it different from what's going on with the Lowell servants?"

"That would also take too much time, right?" Raphael asked. "We'd have to find inhumans, subjugate them..."

"Find and use a binding spell," Nicholae continued in agreement.

Hugh heavily exhaled. "I suppose it _is_ better than the other idea."

"Yeah, but much as I hate to admit it," Butch added, "there's one flaw. Are there spells powerful enough to bind an A-Class inhuman? Because that's what it's going to take against these creatures."

Exhaling, Artie begrudgingly admitted, "And we would...probably need more than one A-Class inhuman, at that."

Sounds of worry and even resignation floated about, causing Jean's eyebrow to twitch. He didn't like that sound. His men were disheartened, unsure of what to do.

"What say you about this, Sarkis?" Nicholae asked. "This must be different from what you imagined."

Jean kept his eyes closed, folding his arms, as Sarkis began to speak.

"I admit, it is." Sarkis' accented voice was even and contemplative. "However, I am also aware that we—that all hunters—are faced with something unprecedented. We are all trying to protect ourselves, protect humanity. Personally, I would never...ever...rather _die_ than work with inhumans."

Jean slightly pursed his lips.

"However..." Sarkis made a relenting huff. "I will go with what my leader decides."

A shocked silence descended the group. The room was momentarily silent save for the sound of air from Lucas' oxygen mask and beeps. Jean opened his eyes, sweeping his gaze around his men before nodding at Sarkis. The man's expression had lightened considerably, but Jean had more than an inkling he was reluctant. Reluctant, but resigned.

"I've taken everything into account, including your words, concerns. If there was another way that gave us the results we need as soon as we need them now, I would do it. You know I mean that." Jean glanced down for a moment. He exhaled softly, then met their gazes again. "I've a responsibility to keep you all safe. To keep our territory safe. But I'll make it easier on us. I asked for Crowley's help, and he has agreed to show me a place a certain inhuman may be residing."

Some of his men's expressions became ones of understanding and realization. Other were still clueless.

"Who?" Lucas asked, his voice strained.

Jean finally turned around to look at him. His comrade was pale, but otherwise alright, it seemed. Jean's expression remained firm. "Celezar."

Hugh and Lucas slightly scowled, but confusion was the most dominant expression on their faces.

Robin tilted his head to the side. "But we tried to kill him, Boss?"

"Yes. I believe in the possib—"

Jean's words were interrupted by the blaring of the office phone. He excused himself, moving past his men to return to his office. Basker was still inside, and his head raised when Jean entered.

Jean picked up the phone. "Jean-Luc speaking," he answered.

" _Jean._ " It was Ulrich. His voice was somber. " _I'm sorry, brother. It's the Richardson Hunters_."

Blood drained from Jean's face and his throat clenched tightly. "What happened." It wasn't a question. He knew.

" _The devil. It...They're dead, Jean. The Richardson Hunters are gone._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** With this is the last chapter I can upload before my indefinite hiatus with this story. Thank you all so much for staying with me despite my month-long breaks in-between uploads up until now. I'm so sorry this is happening. For more information, you can read my messages on my [Facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/marqaroll).
> 
> Thank you so so much for enjoying HuShS! I'll get back to it as soon as I realistically can!!


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